


Whispers in the Dark

by haunter_ielle



Series: Bound Until Death [1]
Category: Dark Brotherhood - Fandom, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure, Assassination, Assassins & Hitmen, Help, In The Darkness, Love Triangles, Male-Female Friendship, Nazir is 1000 percent done with this, Romance, Why is this so dark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-26
Updated: 2016-08-26
Packaged: 2018-08-11 04:58:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 33
Words: 62,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7877443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunter_ielle/pseuds/haunter_ielle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Arabella, a Breton wanderer, meets a strange jester on the road to Whiterun, where she plans to visit an old friend.</p><p>POV: Arabella</p>
          </blockquote>





	1. The Killer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella, a Breton wanderer, meets a strange jester on the road to Whiterun, where she plans to visit an old friend.
> 
> POV: Arabella

I hadn’t intended to kill Grelod the Kind.

            I hadn’t been to Honorhall in seven years. The building was framed in the same rotting wood and perched on the outermost edge of Riften. In the way of interior, things hadn’t changed at all. The order of the beds, the chips in the walls, I was even convinced the sheets hadn’t been changed once in seven years. The faces of sleeping children, though, were entirely different from the ones that lingered in my thoughts of young age.

I entered in the middle of the night, being careful not to wake the children in their beds. A young boy, sleeping in the bed that once belonged to me, caught my eye and I felt a sudden pang of sadness in my heart. I had shoved that moment of weakness aside, and walked to the headmistress’ quarters.

The old hag was asleep, and I had stood over her for a moment. I don’t remember thinking, or even knowing how to think. I just watched her rhythmic inhaling and exhaling, watched her nostrils flare with every breath. I do remember wondering about her name, because this woman didn’t resemble anything like kindness. Frail and narrow, she slept with her jaw set and her shoulders tense. Her face carried years of wrinkles, and even in slumber, her brow was furrowed in anger.

            She must have sensed someone in the room with her, and I tensed a bit. Her eyes fluttered open as she said “What is it? One of the little urchins acting out again?”

            I wasn’t going to do it, honestly. I’d thought about stealing through the doorway and leaving her with the memory of a phantom in her room. However, an aged whip in the corner happened to catch my eye, and I was reminded of the fact that there were shackles in the broom closet across the hall. After that, I couldn’t stop myself.

            Aventus Aretino was more than pleased, but I couldn’t feel the same way if I tried. I had killed a number of bandits and animals, even a few Forsworn when I was attacked. But I had never just killed someone in a moment of rage, never other than self-defense. I’m not even sure what I had intended to do when I got there, but once Grelod spoke, I couldn’t stop myself. All of my years of loneliness and sadness transformed into anger and vengeance. After she was dead, I stole through the window and headed back to Windhelm, not stopping the whole way.

I was headed to Whiterun after that. A man who I grew up in the orphanage with was a bard at the Bannered Mare. I thought seeing Mikael and talking to him about our years at Honorhall would make me feel remorse for my actions instead of justification. I had never intended to be a killer, and I had never wanted to feel proud of my kill. But there was something about the way she went, watching her fade from fear to death, and I wanted to see it again. I couldn’t erase it from my mind.

            I was approaching the Loreius Farm when I saw the jester for the first time. The odd man, small and burly, seemed to be having a bit of an issue with transportation. He was standing over a wheel in the middle of the road, a lopsided wagon just ahead of him. He was ranting and raving about the wheel and Loreius when I was near enough to hear.

            “Problem?” I asked, smiling at his confusing attire. Skyrim was home to a lot of people, but in these times, jesters were not among them. The Nordic race in general were a rather depressed group with very few interests. Working, marrying, and dying were among those interests, but not laughing.

            “Bother and befuddle! Cicero is stuck here! Stuck!” As he spoke, he shook his head, causing his long auburn hair to whip around under the flaps of his jester’s cap.

            I tried to hold it back, but a quiet giggle escaped my lips. “Calm down. Cicero, is it? Are you having wagon troubles?”

            “Oh, yes! Cicero was trying to transport his poor, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse. She’s quite dead, you see. Cicero was taking her to her new resting place in Falkreath, when OH WAGON WHEEL! DAMNEDEST WAGON WHEEL.” The fool had really worked himself up. I felt bad for Cicero. It must be terrible enough to carry a body around, but to be stranded without means to move it? Especially his mother.

            “What can I do to help you, Cicero? Have you spoken to Loreius? Maybe he can help.”

            “Oh, Cicero tried, but Loreius refused! Perhaps the kindly stranger could try to convince Loreius to help poor Cicero. There will be coin if you try! Shiny, gleamy coin!”

            “Sure, I’ll speak with Loreius. I’ll return in a moment.” I turned to tread the hill that lead to Loreius’ home. As I walked away, Cicero went back to cursing the wagon wheel. It had been a long time since I had met a soul so exuberant. Something about this man was refreshing, I suppose. I’d become so accustomed to the monotone ways of life the people of Skyrim conducted. It was a nice change to meet someone with some enthusiasm.

            As I approached Loreius’ porch, he grumbled, rising from his rocker in the corner. His wife, an Altmer, wasn’t too far from his side. “For Mara’s sake, what is it now?”

            I pointed over my shoulder as I climbed the first few steps to his porch. “The uh…little man on the road is having some trouble with his wagon. I was hoping you could help him.”

            “That Cicero fellow? The man’s mad as a hatter. Who knows what he’s carrying in that wagon?” Loreius rolled his eyes in disgust.

            “But you’ll help him, right?”

            “Why should I? I have no business with him. He could be carrying skooma or war contraband for all I know. Now get out of here!”

            “The poor man is toting his mother! What about doing the right thing?” I yelled after him as he slammed his front door in my face. I was seething, clenching and unclenching my fists as I stood in front of the closed door. I didn’t linger long, stomping off of the porch and back to the jester.

            On my way back down the hill, I ducked into his barn and grabbed some tools. In the three years I spent as Balimund’s apprentice, he had taught me a few things about repairs. I’d never repaired the wheel of a wagon hauling a coffin while a jester loomed over my shoulder, but I could try. On my way out, I kicked over a bucket of parts sitting on the ground.

            As I approached the wagon, Cicero’s face lit up. His eyes were a fascinating shade of brown; almost golden. “Did the kind stranger convince Loreius to help Cicero’s poor mother?”

            “No, Loreius was rather set in his ways about helping.” I held up the tools “But I figured I could have a go at it.”

            Cicero’s brow furrowed in confusion, then a smile spread across his face as he began to bounce up and down. “Oh, thank you! Cicero thanks the kind stranger to the Void and back!”

            I spent a few hours working on the wheel. While I worked, Cicero told me all about his time spent with his mother in Dawnstar. I felt so sad for the poor fool. His mother seemed to have been a wonderful person. He spoke of her with such pride, that I almost wished I had known her. Cicero asked many questions about me, but I gave him very short answers, avoiding any specific details about my recent rendezvous in Riften. I did tell him I grew up there, and that I had been a blacksmith’s apprentice. Cicero managed to hold the wagon up for a good while so I could try my best, and eventually I managed to wiggle the bolts of the wheel back into place. After we’d finished, Cicero danced around me and sang his praise.

            I laughed at his silly disposition and loaded the tools into his wagon. At his confused look, I explained. “In case you have any more problems. It’s not like Loreius plans to use them anyway.” Cicero let out a wild laugh, wrapping me into a bear hug and twirling me around.

            “The kind stranger has made Cicero so happy. And even more, she has made his mother very happy.” He handed me a huge pouch of coins “Cicero hopes this will prove his thanks!”

            I shook my head and pushed the pouch back towards him. “No, no. Keep the coin in case you have any more troubles with the wheel. You may have to pay someone to help. Falkreath isn’t too much farther, but you never know.”

            A strange look crossed Cicero’s face. He almost looked sad. After a few moments, he smiled again. “What is the name of the kind stranger? Cicero has neglected to even ask.”

            It was strange, but I hadn’t asked his either, though I didn’t need to. He continuously told stories in the third person. Still, if he hadn’t, I wouldn’t have asked. It felt like I already knew him. “Arabella. My name is Arabella.” I said, extending my hand to him.

            Cicero shook my hand rather forcefully, continuing to bounce about. “Thank you again, kind Arabella.” He kissed my hand before releasing it.

            “Don’t worry about it, Cicero. I’m sorry Loreius refused to.”

            “No matter. Lonely Cicero is used to being turned away. Being dismissed as a madman.” He looked down and cleared his throat, seemingly composing himself. He looked up with a grin. “Where is Arabella off to now?”

            “I’m headed to Whiterun. I’m just visiting an old friend, then I’ll probably return home to Riften.” I looked into the brown eyes of the jester. “If you’re ever in Riften, I’ll be at the blacksmith’s shop. It’s called the Scorched Hammer. Maybe we could catch up after you make it to Falkreath.”

            Cicero chuckled softly. “Perhaps. Cicero likes Riften. Cheats and ruffians and cutthroats abound!” He clapped his hands excitedly “Finally, some fun.”

            I laughed loudly, not meaning to. I quickly tried to recover, but Cicero was already laughing even louder. “I’ll leave you to take care of your mother, now. I hope you find Falkreath without any further trouble.”

            “Thank you again, kind Arabella. Cicero will remember your deed always.” The jester gave an extravagant bow before smiling softly. Then he turned on his heel and climbed into the wagon, snapping the reins to command the horse forward. As I watched him leave, I felt sad. I had half a mind to follow after him, but I knew that wasn’t practical. Maybe we’d cross paths again another day. Instead, I would travel on my own to Whiterun.

            I had learned to be by myself, and I didn’t mind it much. I’d grown up in Honorhall Orphanage in Riften, and I lived with other lonely children until I was sixteen, when I was “too old” to be an orphan. I wandered the streets of Riften, scavenging and looting, trying to find food and items to sell for coin. That’s how Balimund found me. The kind man took me in as soon as he saw me. He taught me to forge my own weapons, and he taught me how to fight. He gave me food and shelter in exchange for work making iron daggers and hide armor. Balimund was the closest friend I’d ever had.

            I stayed at The Scorched Hammer until I turned nineteen. My heart was set on finding my family. I’d spent the last four years as a wanderer. I traveled all over Skyrim asking for any information on any family I could have had. A beggar in Windhelm finally told me he had heard a whisper of my mother’s name in Bruma. I had traveled all the way to Cyrodiil, only to find that no one in Bruma had ever heard the name.

            And that’s how I lived. I wandered from place to place, never staying long enough to make friends or form a family. Part of me liked it that way, but the rest of me felt lonely. Maybe that’s why I felt so attached to the jester, Cicero. Loneliness draws you to people, leaves you with an innocent fascination for people who share your solitude.

            My train of thought was interrupted as I was stopped by a guard at the entrance to Whiterun.

            “What’s your business here, Breton?”

            “I’ve come to rest at the Bannered Mare, and listen to the tunes of the bard Mikael. Is there a problem?” I crossed my arms and pursed my lips. The Whiterun guards were always in everyone’s business. It was the main reason I rarely went there for leisure.

            “No one gets through the gates for any reason. Not with the dragon attack that just hit Helgen. It’s my job to protect the city, and frankly, I don’t like look of you.” The guard laughed. “That is, of course, unless you’re willing to pay a small tax for entry.”

            I rolled my eyes. It had been almost a year since the supposed ‘dragon attack’, and several months since Skyrim’s biggest hero had defeated the ‘World Eater’. Most called it legendary, but I called it lore, a hoax guards like this one used to scam people out of coin.

“Sure, I’ll be sure to march right up to Dragonsreach and give my coin to Balgruuf personally. I’ll be sure to let him know that his gatekeepers are doing such a fine job keeping the peace and swindling his people.”

            The guard held up a hand. “Alright, alright. Keep your voice down. Welcome to Whiterun.” I flashed an overly-huge grin as he opened the gate for me.

            It was almost nightfall, and most of the shops were closing up. I passed the blacksmith at the gate, pausing to look at the size of Adrianne’s forge. She was a good blacksmith. We had taught each other a thing or two when I was with Balimund. She wasn’t out right now, but I’d be sure to say hello to her before I left Whiterun.

            The Bannered Mare was a straight walk from the gate. I imagine it was set up this way so the drunks who wandered in and out of the gates during the day wouldn’t get lost and walk in to Jorrvaskar.

            I pulled open the door, and I heard Mikael’s singing immediately. I approached the bar, rented a room, ordered some mead from the blonde Nord behind the counter, and sat on the bench. I watched Mikael perform and sipped my drink, observing the people in the room. I didn’t recognize anyone except Carlotta. She and Mikael had a complicated relationship, so he’s told me. He’s determined to court her, but she seems to express no interest in him.

            Mikael had always been very exuberant. He was a year or two my elder, but I was always a bit more mature than him. Mikael came to the Honorhall when I was about nine. He always loved singing and dancing to lift the spirits of the young children, but when he thought everyone was asleep, Mikael would weep softly for his family. They had been killed in a house fire, and he was the sole survivor. He and I had become decent friends over the years. He loved to sing and I loved to throw rocks at him.

            After several years at Honorhall, Mikael left to join the Bard’s College in Solitude. He put all of his hurt and sorrow into his music, and he always seemed happy when I visited. Of course, he’d always been good at pretending to be cheerful for the orphans.

            Mikael strummed his last chord on the lute. I set my mead on the bench and walked around the fire to him.

            “Can I make a request?” I asked, poking him playfully in the side. His somber brown eyes met my clouded gray ones. He outstretched his arms to wrap me into a hug. I’d been getting a lot of those that day, apparently.

            “Arabella, my old companion. Of course you can make a request.”

            “Can you take a break? I’d love to catch up.”

            “Of course. Give me just a moment.”

            As he set his instruments to the side, I ordered an ale for him and sat down at the table behind where he usually performs. Once I’d gotten comfortable, he settled into a chair across from me.

            “What brings you to Whiterun, wanderer?” He gave me a sly look as I pushed the ale towards him.

            “Nothing of much excitement, bard.” I said, my eyebrow raised. “I’d just spent a day in Riften, and I thought of my dear old headache, Mikael.”

            “How’s Riften these days? Gloomy as per usual?”

            “Mm, especially so, with ‘recent attacks on Helgen’. Ages ago and yet guards everywhere still seem to be on edge.”

            Mikael rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to tell me twice. The guards in the market outside asked me what my business was in Whiterun yesterday. I’ve been performing here for almost two years.” He snorted as he sipped his ale.

            I laughed. “You never did seem to leave much of an impression on anyone. That reminds me, how is your fair maid Carlotta?”

            “Oh we married ages ago. She’s already baring our fourth son.” he said with a wink, letting me know he wasn’t serious.

            “Oh, you don’t have to jest with me, dear Mikael. I can feel her distaste for you across the room.”

            Mikael laughed. “She’ll want me someday. The women always do.” He leaned back in his chair, slugging down the rest of his ale. “Speaking of women, what really brings you here, my orphaned friend? You very rarely stop by to just say hello.” He mimicked my accent on the last three words, using a girly voice that didn’t at all sound like me. He was right, though. I hadn’t been to visit anyone in a long time.

            “You’ll be surprised to hear that I did in fact just come for a healthy serving of nostalgia. That, and maybe to throw dirt at you like when we were young.”

            The bard chuckled heartily. “Our years at Honorhall were well lived. Well, as well lived as they could be.” Mikael’s face grew serious. “Did you hear about the head mistress of Honorhall? Murdered in her sleep.”

            I tried to swallow around the lump in my throat. Had word really spread that fast? I put on my best look of surprise. “Murdered, you say? How can you be certain?”

            “Word spreads quickly through Skyrim. Grelod the Kind had a blade plunged into her chest in her own bedroom while the children slept soundly around her. It was one of the children who found her.” Mikael leaned toward me and lowered his voice. “They’re saying it was the Dark Brotherhood. Summoned by a child in Windhelm. Can you imagine? A child performing the Black Sacrifice?”  
            “I believe you mean Black Sacrament, bard.” I immediately wished I had withheld my need to correct him. His eyes widened.

            “What do you know of the Brotherhood, Arabella? Have you heard tale of them too?”

            I rolled my eyes. “I hadn’t heard anything of them until just now.” I lied. After speaking with Aventus, I’d taken the book from his ritual and read up on the Brotherhood. I wouldn’t have known otherwise. “I did hear the phrase ‘Black Sacrament’ in passing back in Riften. Maybe it’s true about the child. These are dark times in Skyrim.” I watched Mikael’s reaction, hoping I was convincing enough.

            “Perhaps you’re right, wanderer.” Mikael looked towards the bar, where he was being signaled to get back to his songs. “Looks like break is over, my friend. Will I see you again soon?”

            “I rented a room here tonight. I’ll probably see you in the morning.” I was beginning to feel very tired, actually.

            “I hope so. Despite you being a huge annoyance and terrible company, I have missed you, Arabella.”

            “Well I haven’t missed you in the slightest, dear Mikael. I only come here for the mead.” I smiled, and we both stood for a hug. Once I released him, he smiled and headed back to his spot to continue his songs.

            I watched a few minutes more, then headed up the stairs to my rented room. I closed the door behind me, and fell onto the bed. I didn’t even bother to remove my boots.

            I thought of my past few days as I drifted into slumber. I missed Balimund. Maybe I’d return to Riften tomorrow, visit with him for a few days. Maybe I’d just stay. He was the closest thing to home I’d ever had, and I was through wandering.

I felt my eyes grow heavy, and I obeyed my minds call to just fall into the depth of slumber. My last thought was of Grelod, and her final words before my blade met her fragile, pink flesh.


	2. The Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After following the girl who stole a contract from her family, Astrid presents her with a choice.
> 
> POV: Astrid

            My foot swung lazily off of the wooden edge of my perch. I had removed my cowl’s mask while I waited for the Breton to wake up. The thing was a damned pain to breathe in, but protecting your identity was something my family valued greatly.

            I hadn’t known she already knew anything about us. I honestly thought she just got mixed up. Maybe she felt bad for the Aretino boy. I felt a little bit of guilt for breaking up her little reunion with the pompous bard of Whiterun. All it took was a little alchemy to make her tired after drinking her mead. Tired enough to be carried all the way here without waking. I was a little worried at first that she may wake, but even if she had, one knock on the head and she would have been out again.

            There had been way too much going on for my taste. If I had it my way, I could carry out a contract every once in a while, and spend the rest of my days cuddled up with Arnbjorn. Sure, he wouldn’t care for it much at first, but I’m sure I could change his mind.

            First with the Keeper on his way, and now this. The Keeper had been delayed a few months on his voyage to bring the Night Mother to our sanctuary. Not that I was complaining. Most of my family didn’t care too much for change, but I had always had a soft spot for misfits. The Keeper was the sole survivor of the fall of the Cheydinhal sanctuary. He had been guarding the Night Mother’s coffin for quite some time, it would seem. I didn’t mind him taking his time, but not knowing exactly when he would arrive was making me frustrated.

            I looked down at the woman lying on the floor. She wasn’t at all what I had expected her to look like. I had anticipated someone much older, but she couldn’t be more than twenty-five. Barely a woman, and already a killer. She was sort of sprawled on the floor, her arms tangled in her longish-length mahogany hair. Her dress did tear a little during the journey. She probably wouldn’t mind much. Red is a hideous color on her.

Her eyelids began to flutter as she moaned and clutched her head. I didn’t mean to drop her, but she was heavier than I thought she would be. I had come alone on this trip because I thought the Breton would be thin and easy to carry. If I’d known, I would have had my husband tote her around. I pulled my mask back over the lower half of my face.

            “Sleep well?” I asked as her gray eyes focused on me. She blinked a few times before propping herself up on her elbows and looking around.

            “Where am I?” Her voice was lower than I had imagined it being, and when she spoke, I could see that her bottom teeth were a little crooked.

            “Does it matter? You’re warm and dry, and very much alive.” I pretended to admire the pattern of my shrouded gloves. “That’s more than can be said for old Grelod, hmm?”

            Her face paled, her eyes never leaving mine. “You know about that?”

            “Half of Skyrim knows. Old hag gets butchered in her own orphanage? Things like that tend to get around.” Her bewildered look was too amusing. “Oh, but don’t misunderstand me. I’m not criticizing you. It was a good kill. Old crone had it coming. And you saved a group of urchins, to boot.” Her eyes grew angry at the word ‘urchins’, but she quickly went back to confusion.

            “There is a slight problem.” I added.

            “A problem?” She looked more concerned than confused now.

            “You see, that little Aretino boy was looking for the Dark Brotherhood. For me, and my associates. Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill that you stole.” I tossed a dagger towards the Breton. “A kill that you must repay.”

            The woman picked up the small iron weapon. “You want me to murder someone else? Who?” Her voice sounded frantic, but there was a certain eagerness to her tone. Perhaps this night would prove to be more interesting than I thought.

            “Well, now, funny you should ask.” I pointed behind her. “If you turn around, you’ll notice my guests. I’ve collected them from—well, that’s not really important, is it? The here and now, that’s what matters.” I waited for the Breton to turn back to me. “You see, there’s a contract out on one of them, and that person can’t leave this room alive. But which one? Go on, see if you can figure it out.”

            She stood and looked to me for further instruction. “Make your choice,” I said. “Make your kill. I just want to observe. And admire.”

            The girl walked slowly towards the three people, bound at the wrists and faces covered. She stood first before the Kahjit. She asked “Who are you?”

            “Ahh, Vasha, at your service. Obtainer of goods, taker of lives and defiler of daughters. Have you not heard of me? Perhaps I will have my people carve my name in your corpse as a reminder.”

            She scoffed. “Tell me cat, would someone pay to have you killed?”

            The Kahjit laughed at her. “Me? Ha! Are you serious?”

            “Answer me, or I’ll paint this room with your blood.” The woman was full of surprises, clearly. An artist and an assassin? How cute.

            “Fool! Don’t you get it? I live in the shadow of death every day. A knife in every doorway, a nocked arrow on every rooftop. If one of my enemies would not pay to have me killed, I would take it as a personal insult.”

            The Breton seemed satisfied with the answer, and moved to the guest in the middle. Ah, this woman could whine.

            “Who are you?” She asked again.

            “None of your damned business! If you’re going to kill me, just do it already.” She nodded her head and moved on to the final guest.

            Before she could even speak, the man began to cry. “Is this about that raid last week? I told Holgrim there was no honor in killing sleeping men, but he wouldn’t listen. It’s not my fault.”

            “Would someone pay to have you killed?” She asked of the man.

            “What? Oh gods, I don’t want to die.”

            “Answer me, or you will.”

            “Please! I don’t know. I mean, I’m a soldier. I’ve killed people. When I was ordered!” He paused, his tone transitioning from worry to guilt. “Well, maybe there were a few times when I got carried away.”

            I waited eagerly for her to make her decision. She took a few steps back, then walked around to stand behind the soldier. She held his head in her hands, and quickly brought the dagger down to his throat, stabbing instead of slicing. Blood spurted from beneath her clenched fist, but it didn’t seem to bother her at all, to my great surprise.

            She walked around her victim and towards me. She tossed the knife at my feet, and took a sarcastic bow. I applauded her mockery, and her decision.

            “Did I make the right choice?” she asked, sounding indifferent.

            “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I told you to kill, and you did. And very well, might I add.” She was wiping the blood from her hands onto her gods-awful dress.

            “Am I free to go now?” She didn’t seem very anxious to leave. I tossed the key to her anyway. She caught it with one hand.

            “Of course, although, I _would_ like to invite you to join my little family. We have a sanctuary in Falkreath. You would make a great addition to the Dark Brotherhood, Arabella.” She looked up at me at the sound of her name. A small smile changed her face.

            “I suppose I could come back with you to your family. After all, you know my greatest secret now.” Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

            I hopped down from the shelf and removed my cowl, feeling more myself now that my blonde locks were free. I was practically drowning in sweat. I extended a hand to her. “My name is Astrid, and I’m the leader of the Dark Brotherhood’s last sanctuary in all of Tamriel.” Arabella shook my hand a bit forcefully from where she stood below me. I was towering over her, easily a head taller than her.

            She cleared her throat, separating from the handshake. “I’ll wait for you outside, if you don’t mind. I’d like a moment to collect my thoughts.”

            “You could just meet me at the sanctuary, you know. You could return to your home to gather your personal belongings.”

            She laughed softly. “Everything I could need is already on me.” She moved towards the door and unlocked it. “I’ll be out here.”

            Even after the door closed I could hear her vomit. I couldn’t blame her, recruits usually reacted with some sort of…upheaval. Ah, I crack myself up.

After a few moments spent dealing with the cat and the wench, I exited the cabin to find her leaning on the side of the shack. She straightened at my appearance, and I gestured towards my wagon. She sort of smiled at the wagon, like she had some sort of personal joke about it. We climbed up, and I started towards home.

           

            During our journey, Arabella and I had a nice discussion. I gave her a brief description of each of the members of her new family, my wolf of a husband, and some of the things she should expect from her new life as an assassin.

She was very eager to listen and learn, but gave very little information in return. I had made her throw that hideous dress away, and she had pulled a black outfit out of the satchel on her hip. I was impressed that she could fit it in the small sack, but more so, I was confused. It was mourner’s clothing. Did she even know? A strange girl, no doubt, but interesting as well.

            As we climbed down from the wagon, I demonstrated the password to the door. Upon entry, Arabella received her armor and thanked me.

            “Go, meet your new family.” Babette was in the training area, telling the tale of her latest kill. Arabella nodded and headed down the stairs. I leaned against the wall and watched as she stalked towards her new family. My family.

Veezara quickly welcomed her and Nazir was the first to shake her hand. Gabriella waved awkwardly from her own corner while my Arnbjorn turned his nose up at the girl, not that I expected any more from him. Festus immediately wanted the girl’s life story, but Babette took her hand, insisting she meet the family’s pet spider. Arabella seemed eager enough, but stayed quiet as the group led her away. She could get some small contracts from Nazir before I gave her anything too challenging. Arabella could have some great potential, but only time would tell.

Arnbjorn had managed to sneak away from the group and make his way back to the study that connected with our room

            I smiled, seeing his familiar scowl beneath his long white beard. “Good tidings, husband. Catch any rabbits while I was gone?”

            Arnbjorn snickered. “I didn’t, wife, but you sure seem to have.” His deep voice was soothing, as it always had been. He wrapped his arms around my waist to pull me into his embrace. He continued speaking, his mouth against my ear. “A new recruit, a Keeper, and the Night Mother all in one month. You must be so _stressed_.”

            I laughed, knowing he really had no idea how stressful the job was, but not minding it at all. “Oh I am, but there is still more work to be done.”


	3. The Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Cicero arrives at his new home, he is surprised to find that he recognizes the face of one new sister.
> 
> POV: Cicero

            It had been a long time since I had been in a sanctuary full of people. I had mulled over all of the foreseeable outcomes in preparation. They may be welcoming. They may be uninterested in Mother. They may be hateful.

            _Hateful, yes. Cicero was expecting a hateful response from the new family. Everyone hated Cicero. Cicero’s only friend was the laughter._

            No matter the outcome, I had only come to the new sanctuary to find a Listener for sweet mother. Cicero had tried oh so hard to hear her words, but Mother wouldn’t speak to him.

            _It’s because you’re not worthy. Cicero is but a worm in Mother’s eyes. She weeps for Garnag and Rasha, but lowly Cicero would never be loved by the Night Mother. Not after what Cicero did to Rasha._

            “Be quiet. Cicero must focus. Cicero must collect his thoughts. _I_ must collect _my_ thoughts.” Block out the laughter. Block out the silence. Step up to the door.

            Astrid had sent the password not long ago. Still, there is always a moment of uncertainty before the door opens. Was the password spoken correctly? Was it pronounced right? Every syllable? Note? Rhythm? Measure? Word? _Words. Mother had no Listener. You haven’t done your job!_

            “Stop it. Cicero must focus.” I had tried to silence the laughter in my head. Most of the time I felt like I wasn’t even in there, like I was just a spectator. I wasn’t Cicero. But I am. I am Cicero. _Cicero is the Keeper. The Keeper keeps the Night Mother. The Night Mother speaks to the Listener. The Listener is dead dead dead dead dead._

            “Stop, Cicero. You must focus.” I pulled the Night Mother’s crate from the wagon, using my legs to support most of the weight. Before I could reach the door, a lizard slinked by me, hands in the pockets of rather familiar armor. His gaze met mine, and he rushed towards me.

            In a deep, smooth voice, he spoke to me. “Keeper? Are you the keeper?”

            “Yes, yes, my green friend! Cicero is the Keeper.” I laughed too loudly. Cicero was already famous. I’d be signing autographs in no time.

            “Here, let me help you.” The Argonian grabbed the other end of the crate, taking some of the weight from my bones. “I’m Veezara. We’ve all been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

            “Oh, you jest with poor Cicero. Surely the family has better things to do than wait for Cicero to arrive.”

            “I assure you, we do not.” Veezara had a pleasant laugh. He spoke the passphrase into the door’s ear, and it swung open. A large man just past the steps helped us carry Mother the last bit of the way. _He smelled like a dog._ The man was a werewolf, I knew it already.

We set her down gently, making sure she wasn’t doing handstands. Foolish Cicero wouldn’t be forgiven if the Night Mother had a headache from being upside down.

            Within moments, many people had gathered around me and the sweet Night Mother. A blonde Nord stepped in front of the bunch. Her face seemed welcoming, but the obvious stress she carried pinched at the corners of her eyes. “Welcome to my sanctuary, Cicero. I am Astrid. I’d like you to meet everyone.”

            She introduced the wolf, a white-blond Nord named Arnbjorn, who also happened to be her husband. I’d already met Veezara, the kind Argonian. There was a child among them, seemingly no more than ten years old, but Cicero recognized a vampire’s eyes when he saw them. The Redguard Nazir and the Dunmer Gabriella were very quiet. Festus Krex was the wizard, and he was very kind and talkative. He said there was a new recruit, but she was out on contract. She was supposed to return today, and Cicero would meet her later.

            They asked a few questions about the Night Mother, but ultimately, they looked to Astrid for answers. In their years without Mother to guide them, this sanctuary had forgotten the Old Ways. It wasn’t their fault, I suppose. Mother hadn’t chosen a Listener. _No one could hear her. No one could look to her as a leader, and that’s Cicero’s fault._

            Somewhere in the middle of meeting, another family member slinked in, the new recruit, I assumed. Awfully quiet, this one was. She may have gone unnoticed, but Cicero is an expert at detecting movement. Even a blink could be spotted by Cicero at fifty paces. She was wearing the Brotherhood’s armor, removing her cowl as she entered. Her face looked familiar, but Astrid was still talking to Cicero.

            “Cicero will need some time to unbox Mother’s coffin, then he can get work looking for a Listener.” I interrupted whatever she had been saying, turning my attention back to the group.

            Astrid pursed her lips. “Cicero, we are happy to have you and the Night Mother here with us. I just want to remind you that I am the leader of this sanctuary, and my word is law. We respect your position as Keeper, and I assume you will respect my position as well.”

            “Oh, of course, mistress. You’re the boss!” The group began to disperse. When I thought everyone was out of earshot, I began to mumble. “Oh yes, mistress, you _are_ the boss. For now.”

            I turned to face Mother, picking up a metal twisty thing from Loreius’ tools. Surely, I could use something to pry open this damned crate.

            As I jammed the metal into the wood, I heard a quiet giggle. My head snapped rather quickly in the direction of the sound. The late entry stepped towards me.

            “Maybe I can help you. That’ll never get the crate open.”

            It was the stranger from the farm! Arabella! She had snuck in while Cicero was unloading his Mother and his words, yes! I took a few quick strides towards her.

            “Dear, sweet Arabella. If Cicero had known the kindly stranger was a member of his new family, he would have offered her a ride to the sanctuary.” I grabbed her hand and twirled her around. She laughed as she spun, seemingly unfazed by my over-the-top reaction. Most of the time, I tried to act as extravagantly as possible. It seemed to deter the people who found poor Cicero to be a nuisance.

            “Hello again, Cicero.” I stopped spinning with her so she could speak. “I actually wasn’t with the Dark Brotherhood when we crossed paths. I was recruited not hours later. How funny is that?” Her pale eyes sparkled with wonder.

            “Very funny indeed, sweet Arabella. And Cicero knows all about funny. Cicero knows the laughter personally.” I began to dance about her while she laughed.

            “I had a feeling I was meant to know you.” She said very happily. Her smile faded as she composed herself. “I’ll get some better tools to help you pry that crate open.” She stalked away quickly.

            How strange this girl was. A kind, generous soul seemingly afraid to be happy, and yet an assassin? I couldn’t imagine her killing anything, animal or enemy. Maybe she just did repairs for the sanctuary? It would be a very good resource to have, but had Festus said ‘contract’.

            I couldn’t help but wonder if what she said was true, for I had also felt that we were meant to know each other. There was something about her particular brand of innocence that intrigued me. Her pale eyes screamed loneliness. Perhaps she could understand Cicero, and maybe that was why I seemed to be able to think clearly when she was around. Free of the laughter, the rapid thought. What a treat!

            She returned rather quickly with the tools, no doubt she swiped them from Astrid’s dog. That was another thing that bothered me about the boss woman. How could she lay with a werewolf? Didn’t he have claws?

            Arabella set down a stack of metal bars and wrenches. She lifted one of the bars out of the pile and handed it to me. I took it and approached Mother’s crate. I really did rack my brain trying to figure it out, but finally, I turned back to her. “Cicero isn’t entirely sure what this is used for.”

            She let out a loud laugh. That was another thing I enjoyed about this girl. When she laughed, she didn’t hold anything back. Most of the time, she just doubled over, as if a good joke could turn her spine to spun sugar.

            Kind Arabella took the bar from my hands, and approached Mother’s crate. “May I?” I nodded, appreciating that she bothered to ask. She slid the slanted end of the bar into the cracked edge of the crate, then she yanked the bar back rather forcefully. The wood separated with a loud crack. Ah, I understood now. As if she had heard my thoughts, Arabella handed the bar to me, allowing me to finish the job. As I worked over Mother’s crate, Arabella started up a conversation.

            “So, I understand now that this is not the woman who birthed you. She is, as it turns out, my mother too.” She grinned slightly.

            “Would the kind stranger have helped Cicero if she knew he was protecting and carting the figure head of the Dark Brotherhood?” I laughed to add an ease to the question, but I really wanted to know.

            She looked at her feet for a moment. Even under her armor, I saw the smallest sliver of a dark scar on her neck, stretching down from her jaw. I wondered why I didn’t notice it when we met. After a few moments of honest thought, she looked back at me. “Yes, I would have.” How intriguing.

            As I pried the last few pieces of wood away from the coffin’s protective chamber, Arabella stepped close behind me. I heard her voice over my right shoulder. “Do you want some help unloading the Night Mother?” she cleared her throat softly. “If you’d rather do it yourself, I understand. I just thought I’d offer anyway.” I turned to look at her face. What a confusing creature. Offer help as long as it’s convenient for the person she wishes to help?

            “Help would please Cicero very much, kind Arabella.” I didn’t really need it, I could lift Mother’s coffin on my own. However, I wanted any excuse to try to understand this woman.

            She helped me remove Mother from the crate, and we carried her coffin up a set of stairs to place her behind the stained glass portrait of the Dread Lord. As we set her down, Arabella straightened her back and cracked her neck. I felt my lips curl at the sound. Crack crack crack crack. _If I spy a singing bird, I’ll snap its neck before it’s heard._

            Stop. Focus. Speak. I silenced the jester and lifted my arm, gesturing towards the chairs in the room. “Tell Cicero, how did young Arabella happen to find the Brotherhood within hours of helping poor, abandoned Cicero?” She laughed quietly.

We both moved to sit in the chairs. When she sat, she kept her back straight, like she was ready to fight at any moment. Her face looked at ease, though. She was much prettier than Cicero had originally thought. Her eyes were an incredibly pale blue, almost gray really, and that really distracted Cicero from the rest of her face. Now that I could truly look at her, I saw that she had several small scars spattered across her face and arms. Still, she was lovely.

            “Well, Cicero, just before meeting you, I managed to unknowingly steal a contract from the Dark Brotherhood.” So she did kill. I never would have guessed it when I met her.

            “Well, well, well. Perhaps Arabella has a cunning, intuitive mind. She knew she needed to bring her services to the Night Mother, and she rushed to fulfill her contract and fix her wagon wheel.” I grinned at her, not being able to fathom enough excitement to express to her.

            “Perhaps so.” She said, looking down at her hands on the table. After a moment, she looked back at me. “What made you bring the Night Mother here from Dawnstar? Astrid said this was the last sanctuary in all of Skyrim.” Her brow was furrowed in confusion, unable to piece things together.

            “Mother and I came from Cheydinhal, actually. Cicero protected her there when the sanctuary fell, and after a while, he brought her here. Mother needs a Listener.”

            She was still confused. “A Listener? Is that different from being Keeper?” I choked on laughter. _Cicero would never be Listener no matter how hard he tried. Cicero couldn’t be Listener. Mother didn’t want to speak to him._

            “No, no, confused Arabella. As Keeper, I...keep. I keep mother clean and protected and happy.” I cleared my throat. “I am not the Listener. No, Mother has not chosen a Listener. Cicero hopes Mother will choose someone here in Falkreath. Mother will know when the right person is in her presence. She must.” I felt a lump gather in my throat. I needed to change the subject, or I may get upset in front of this girl. I couldn’t let anyone here know Cicero was upset or disappointed. Let them think he’s crazy. “Arabella knows a lot about fixing things. How long was she a blacksmith’s apprentice?” Her pale eyes sparkled, probably excited that I remembered.

            “I worked for Balimund for about three years. He taught me how to forge and fight. How to protect myself.” Her voice trailed off, perhaps this topic was painful for her.

            “And before that? Where was Arabella before the blacksmith?”

            Her eyes grew distant. “I was a child. There’s not much to tell.” She laughed softly. Maybe everything was painful for her to talk about. “I left Balimund when I was nineteen. I’ve been a wanderer, looking for adventure for the past four years. I guess that’s how I found myself here.” Her eyes filled with light again. She smiled at me. She seemed very happy to be here.

            “Did Arabella find her friend in Whiterun?”

            She laughed rather loudly, then stifled it. “I did. My old headache was doing fine.” She leaned back in her chair, now looking very relaxed. “How did you find the Brotherhood, Cicero?”

            “Ah, a tale for another day, my dear Arabella. It seems we have other business to attend to.” I gestured to the doorway behind her, where Veezara loomed in the frame. “Hello, Veezara! How can Cicero be of service to his new, green brother?” I asked as Arabella turned towards him.

            “Hello again, Cicero.” A reptilian smile spread across his scaly face. “Arabella, dear, Astrid wishes to speak with you. She’s up the stairs.” His eyes watched Arabella’s every move with a curiosity that I could definitely understand.

            “Of course, Veezara. Thank you for fetching me. I’ll join her in a moment.” Veezara nodded and departed as Arabella turned back to me.

            “I enjoyed speaking to you again, Cicero. Perhaps we can continue our conversation after I meet with Astrid.” She stood and turned to leave.

            “Of course, Arabella. Cicero would enjoy that.” She blushed just enough for me to notice.

            “Thank you, my brother.” She gave a small wave as she left.

            Perhaps Cicero’s time in Falkreath wouldn’t be as unbearable as he thought. Perhaps he _could_ find a Listener for Mother within these walls.


	4. The Shadowscale

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veezara is used to being alone in a room full of family, so he's surprised when the newest recruit wants to spend time with him.
> 
> POV: Veezara

            Perhaps the greatest problem with my species is that I didn’t sleep very often. That’s how I found myself wandering the halls of the sanctuary while most of the others slept. I was looking for Babette. My dear sister slept during the day, leaving her to spend her time with family in the early evening, but to practice her alchemy during our slumber. I had slept the three hours I needed, and I had already reorganized my shelves and chest. I cleaned the eating area. I washed the few dishes left from the midnight snackers, who were apparently not midnight washers. I swept the floor in the main hall. I checked in on most of my family who slept in the same quarters as me.

            I would have practiced for a while, but I feared I would rouse someone from slumber. Out of means to entertain myself, and no contracts currently available, I would just have to find Babette. Surely she would need help with something. Maybe I could gather some things for her alchemy.

            As I approached her room, I saw the door was open. I knocked gently, but noticed Babette reading a book. She looked up at me. “Hello, Veezara. Awake hours before our siblings again, I see.”

            “Yes, my dear. I won’t disturb you if you’re immersed in literature, though.” My heart fell slightly.

            “Alright. Let me know if you need something.” Her gaze returned to her book.

            I walked down the hallway leading to the exit. Maybe I’d go on a walk. That would sure clear my mind. I walked quietly through the study that connected to Astrid’s room. Not that she would mind much if I accidentally woke her, but Arnbjorn certainly would. I climbed the stairs to the exit, and pushed the door open.

            I stepped out into the cool of night. The wind was quiet, but ever present. I didn’t often grow cold in the open air, my genetics prevented me from being anything but room temperature. I walked down the path a ways, kicking rocks to the grass, pausing occasionally to pick up a rock I found aesthetic and place it in my pocket. I looked up at the sky, willing the gods to send me something to do.

            That’s when I caught the light out of the corner of my eye. Just past the sanctuary. Coming from the grass. I quickly racked my brain for things it could possibly be. It could be fire from an intruder’s camp. Or it could nirnroot. Gods, let it be an intruder. I hated nirnroot.

            I approached the light slowly, bracing myself for combat. As I got close enough to make out a shape, I found it was only my newest sister, performing some kind of restoration magic.

            I strode up to her, glad for someone to converse with. “Awfully strange to find an assassin out in the night without a weapon.” Then I wondered if she even wished to be disturbed. I hated being a bother.

            Her face lit up when she saw me, though. Relief washed over me instantly. “Well, I’m not looking for trouble on this particular night. Sit with me, Veezara. Unless you’re out on your own business. I don’t wish to be a nuisance.” My initial thoughts of her when she arrived were that she was beautiful, and since Astrid recruited her personally, there must be something special about her. If she was good with a blade, too, then she was exactly what I found admirable in anyone.

            “Nonsense, sister. I have all the time in the world.” I plopped down next to Arabella, crossing my legs in front of me. This was the most comfortable way to sit with scales, I had found. She continued to conjure light from her hands. “What are you up to?”

            She grinned at me, her bottom teeth revealing their crookedness. “I’m practicing some restoration magic. Here, let me show you.” She pulled a dagger from her pocket, and moved to plunge it into the earth. She grunted to herself. “Too dark.” she said, looking at me. She conjured a purple light in her left hand, and tossed it casually up above us. It was just dim enough that we wouldn’t be detected by any passing folk, but illuminated the area of earth she had sliced with her dagger.

            Now she lifted her blade, looking at me. I was very confused as she crudely sliced grass from the ground and tossed it to the side. She held up a finger, indicating the grand reveal was coming. She placed her hand over the patch of dirt, and as the soft yellow light returned to her palm, so did the grass regrow slowly from the ground. I felt my eyes widen in astonishment.

            Once the blades of grass were fully grown, she closed her palm, ceasing the light. She also waved her hand to diminish the candlelight floating above us. Even in the dark, I could see her smile. She was proud of her accomplishment, as she should be.

            “Very impressive, sister.” I applauded her quietly. I felt heat emanate from her as her face flushed.  “Why do you find such fascination with restoration?”

            She grinned at me crookedly. Turning to face me, she moved her hair to reveal a dark brown scar on her neck, stretching from her jawline to the end of her right collarbone. The line was near perfect, but broke barely in the middle. It stood out terribly against her pale skin. So prominent, it was visible in the dark of the night.

“I took a blade to the neck when I was in the fields outside of Markarth. I laid on the ground and bled, pretending to be dead while the bandits pulled what they wanted from my pockets and left me. Once they were out of earshot, I tried to seal the wound. I had never practiced much restoration, always focused more on destruction. I didn’t do a very good job healing it, and I’ve got this nasty reminder now. Since then, I’ve been trying to master restoration. Keeping myself, and others, alive is more important than torching enemies.” She laughed softly and let her hair fall back over her scar. The mark was almost identical in color to her hair. A clever disguise indeed.

            Arabella looked up at the moons in the sky. I watched her face as she watched the stars. “Do you ever missed home, sister?”

            Her grin fell slightly. “I suppose I do sometimes.” I took a moment to register the similarity between her accent and Gabriella’s. Though very close, Gabriella spoke very articulately, and Arabella’s tongue was lazier, slurring words together and skipping letters as she spoke. “What about you, Veezara? Do you ever miss home?”

            I laughed at the thought. “The sanctuary is my home. I have been with Astrid since I was a hatchling. Killing is the only thing I was trained to do. I’m the last of my kind, you see. I was created to be an assassin, and it keeps Astrid happy. I only serve her.”

            She smiled at me. “I suppose we were all created to be assassins.” She stood and extended her hand to help me to my feet. I took it, and allowed her to pull me up. “Come, my brother. The sun will rise soon.” We both began walking back towards the black door.

            “Do you have any contracts lined up?” I asked my newest sister.

            “Yes, actually. I’m traveling to Markarth today to meet with a woman.” We approached the door, and Arabella whispered the passphrase. We slipped quietly past the snoring Arnbjorn and into the main room.

            Arabella nodded to me as she departed to her bedside to get ready for her trip. As I lowered myself to sit in my usual spot next to the practice area, I thought of having a home away from here. I didn’t really need one, but what if I had one? What would it be like to know others of my kind?

            The recruit walked back through the main room with a small bag, probably only large enough to carry a change of clothes. She dawned her shrouded armor, looking like a true assassin. She gave a small wave as she headed toward the exit.


	5. The Defiler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Arabella returns from contract, she is greeted by an unsettling dream and an even more unsettling task from Astrid. 
> 
> POV: Arabella

            I was walking through the halls of the Falkreath sanctuary. I wasn’t sure where I was supposed to be going, or why I was walking. The walls and floors were adorn with white flowers. Petals and stems covered the stone beneath my feet.

            I walked past Babette’s room, then past Cicero’s. I found myself walking into the room where the Night Mother slept, in front of the shrine of Sithis. I stopped in front of her coffin, waiting quietly. I could hear my own breathing.

            The coffin doors swung open, revealing the unholy matron. She was shriveled and dead, but still somehow lovely. A decrepit left arm unraveled from her body, and her fingers curled to point behind me.

            I turned to see Cicero watching me. Seeing him, seeing the Night Mother, I began to cry for some unknown reason. He outstretched his arms and walked towards me. When he was close enough to me, he wrapped me into a hug while I cried into his shoulder. Then, Cicero’s hands moved to my shoulders, and he pulled me away from him just far enough to wipe the moisture from my cheeks.

            I looked into his eyes, and he into mine. Then he opened his mouth to speak in a voice much deeper than usual.

            _“Cicero should be Listener. Not you.”_

            His hands snaked around my throat, cutting off the air to my lungs. I tried to fight my way from his grasp, but he flung me to the ground. Before I could crawl away, his hands were at my neck again. My lungs were burning, and I was still crying. I looked around frantically, trying to find anything I could use to defend myself.

            When I looked back at my attacker, it was no longer Cicero. Astrid’s face was inches from mine, choking the life out of me. Over her shoulder, I saw Arnbjorn holding Cicero back as he watched. He was screaming, _“You have to listen to me. Mother needs her!”_ Astrid laughed the whole time.

            I bolted upright in my bed. The rest of the sanctuary was silent, except for the deep breaths that indicated the rest of the family was sleeping. I pulled the covers back to free my legs and stood. I wrapped myself in a blanket and walked down to the eating area. It was vacant and dark, as the fire had been staunched before Nazir retired for the night. I grabbed a cup, filled it with water and took a sip before I left the room.

            I walked all the way outside without boots or armor on. Stepping into the cold night, I tightened the blanket’s warm embrace around my shoulders. I walked down the path a ways, then sat in the same spot I had with Veezara. The spot was perfect. It was under the shade of the trees, hiding you from anyone passing by, but there was a gap in the leaves above that allowed you to see the stars. The grass was soft under me, and I was grateful to have some time to think in silence.

            The dream had been unsettling, of course. I frequently had night terrors, but they usually involved running from bandits or wolves. I had never had a dream that involved the people I felt close to.

            It had to mean something. Balimund used to talk for hours about premonitions and superstition. He believed that before something significant happened in your life, you would have a few good days leading up to a very bad one. He definitely believed that you could have premonitions before someone did something kind for you, as well. Could you also have premonitions before someone betrayed you?

            I trusted Cicero. I couldn’t think of a reason not to. He was kind and exuberant, but he was also very clearly intelligent. In my soul, he felt like a friend. Astrid seemed okay too, though for a different reason. Astrid hadn’t yet given me a reason not to trust her.

            These people were the closest thing I’d ever had to the big family I’d always wanted. When I arrived at the sanctuary two weeks ago, I’d anticipated being the outcast. I had braced myself in the wagon with Astrid, ready to be dismissed as the weakest link. When I walked into the main room, everyone had been more than welcoming. I had made friends with a few people in the time I spent here. Veezara expressed a lot of interest in getting to know me. He hung on every word of my stories, the ones I was willing to tell, and he had been the very first to show me I was welcome. Nazir was always sporting an aura of eminent sarcasm. He had given me several contracts to complete now, and I felt really accomplished completing them. It wasn’t at all as difficult as I had assumed it would. Babette was very kind. She had tried to teach me a bit of alchemy, but I’m absolutely awful at it. I swear, I botched her healing potion just standing in the doorway to her room. Festus Krex, though grumpy, and old, was very talkative. He had enough stories to last until I killed over.

            None of these people were anything like Cicero though, which is why my dream confused me so. If had been anyone else, I would trust that dream. I would stay away from them. I couldn’t abandon Cicero though. I had spent most of my time with him in my weeks here. He was full of stories about his contracts and his duties as Keeper. He talked mostly about the Night Mother, he told fascinating tales of the Old Ways and the Dread Lord. We didn’t have to tell each other anything personal about ourselves, and we didn’t. I hadn’t told him anything more about myself other than my years with Balimund, and he only talked about his years with the Brotherhood. I valued his company.

            And a more pressing matter: had he said Listener? In the dream, had Cicero said Listener? Yes, ‘Cicero should be Listener, not you.’ But I wasn’t the Listener. I was just a recruit, nobody amongst the veteran assassins.

            I laid back in the grass, looking through the opening in the leaves. In my adventures, I had spent many night sleeping under the stars. I very rarely had enough coin to rent a room anywhere, and on that night, there were so many stars, ball of light illuminating the grass around me.

 

            “Arabella?”

            I flinched awake. Festus Krex loomed over me, his brow furrowed beneath his years of wrinkles. The sun was up now. I must have fallen asleep out here. I rubbed my face and sat up.

            “You are so odd, girl. Are you trying to get pneumonia?”

            “No, I didn’t mean to fall asleep.”

            “Astrid’s been looking for ya all morning. We thought you’d gone off on your own.” He cocked his head to the side. “You been crying?”

            I reached to feel the bags under my eyes. “I don’t think I was crying.” Had the dream been real?

            “You’re very strange.” Krex said rather blatantly, walking away.

            I stood and brushed myself off. Grabbing my blanket, now covered in dirt and grass, I headed towards the black door.

            When I got inside, Astrid was hunched over the table in her study.

            “There you are. How was your contract?” She gave me a side-glance once over, probably wondering why I had been outside without armor. Or shoes.

            “It went well. Better than I expected, actually.” I had anticipated a huge brawl with Alain Dufant. Most of his guards were asleep when I arrived, and it wasn’t difficult to take Dufant down once I got to him. I smiled, remembering the panic in his eyes as I brought my dagger to his chest, the blood that poured out of his body and onto my bare hands. I quickly shoved the pride aside, feeling crazy for praising myself.

            “We have a new issue,” Astrid explained to me, interrupting my memories. “It’s Cicero.”

            My head twitched back in confusion. “Cicero? Has he done something wrong?”

            Astrid turned away from the table to face me. “Ever since he arrived, his behavior has been, well, erratic would be an understatement. I do believe he is truly mad.”

            “Cicero isn’t mad. He’s exuberant, excited maybe. But certainly, he’s not mad.”

            “But it’s worse than that. He’s taken to locking himself in the Night Mother’s chamber, and talking. To someone. In hushed, frantic tones.” Sort of like this, Astrid? “Who is he speaking with? What are they planning?” Her eyes looked desperate. “I fear treachery.”

            “Astrid, you’re being a bit…paranoid.” I had to talk her down. Cicero hadn’t done anything wrong. Even if he was talking to someone, it could just be friendly. He spent a decent amount of time with Veezara, to my knowledge. I could tell he was lonely.

            “Maybe so, but healthy paranoia has saved this sanctuary before, and my gut is telling me that demented little fool is up to something.”

            “What do you want me to do?”

            Astrid’s face was serious. “Dear sister, I need you to steal into that chamber, and eavesdrop on the meeting.” She placed her hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be no use clinging to the shadows, you’ll be seen for sure. No, you need a hiding place. Somewhere they’d never think to look. Like, inside the Night Mother’s coffin.”

            “You’re joking.” I seriously hoped she was. After no change in her expression, I added, “But that seems so…disrespectful.”

            “Be that as it may, Arabella, we have no choice. You need to remain unseen.”

            “Astrid this is insane. I can’t do that. You climb in the coffin if you think something’s wrong with Cicero.” I couldn’t share a coffin with the Night Mother.

            “You need to remain unseen, Arabella.” Her voice was stern. Her word was law. “Now go! Before they meet. And report back to me with whatever you learn.” She waved her hand to dismiss me. I clenched my fists and left the room quickly.

            Maybe Cicero was mad, but this was insane. There was no way this would work. Even if it did, how could I forgive myself for blindly following orders? It was the one promise I had made to myself, after I heaved outside of the abandoned shack. If I was going to get involved in this, I couldn’t become a stranger to myself, killing because Astrid commanded. That’s why I chose the soldier in the shack.

            I entered the chamber and approached the Night Mother’s coffin. It was locked, but I quickly picked it open. The doors swung open, revealing the unholy matron. Her hair was matted, and her dress was nothing more than scrap fabric now, but her body was intact, nothing like my dream, which I took as a good sign. She was roped into the coffin, ensuring she wouldn’t fall.

As I heard Cicero’s singing voice approaching, I climbed into the coffin, trying to be careful not to touch her. The doors locked behind me. Gods, would Astrid come and unlock them?

            Beyond us, the doors to the chamber opened, Cicero’s humming indicating that he had in fact arrived. I could hear him lock the doors, and walk to check the other set across the room. When he was satisfied, I heard his footsteps approaching. He stopped outside the coffin.

            “Are we alone?” He laughed. “Yes! Alone! Sweet solitude. No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan.” He paused for a moment. “The others, I’ve spoken to them. They’re coming around, I know it. The wizard, Festus Krex…perhaps even the Argonian, the un-child. What about you…hmm? Have you spoken to anyone? No. No of course not. I do the stalking, the talking, the seeing and the saying! And what do you do? Nothing!” He took a breath to collect himself. “Not…not that I’m angry. No, never. Cicero understands. Cicero always understands. And obeys. You will talk when you’re ready, won’t you? Won’t you, sweet Night Mother?”

            He was talking to the Night Mother, not any of the other members. Good, this was good.

            _“Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero.”_ Wait, that wasn’t Cicero. There _was_ someone else with him. _“Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice, for he is not the Listener.”_ Divines, it couldn’t be, could it? I felt my jaw slack. A whisper in my head, not in the chamber with Cicero.

            “Oh but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will if you will not speak to anyone?” Cicero was still talking behind us.

            _“Oh, but I will speak. I speak to you. For you are the one.”_ I grabbed my head, trying to block the noise. I was dreaming again. She didn’t mean me. Not me.

            _“Yes, you. You who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task—journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre.”_

            “Poor Cicero has failed you. Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet Mother. I’ve tried so very hard. But I just can’t find the Listener.”

            _“Tell Cicero that the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for all these years—‘Darkness rises when silence dies.’”_

            Before I could react, the coffin doors swung open, and I fell onto the ground at Cicero’s feet. The look on his face was enough to make me vomit.

            “What? What is this treachery? Defiler! Debaser and defiler!” He grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to my feet. I was slammed up against the wall, unable to wiggle free from his iron grasp. “You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother’s coffin. Explain yourself!” I couldn’t find words. He shook me. “Speak worm!”

            “The Night Mother spoke to me. She said I’m ‘the one.’” My voice was frantic.

            “She…she spoke to you?” His eyes were soft for only a moment, then they filled with bloodlust. One of his hands held my arm, keeping me pinned to the wall. His other hand squeezed my cheeks with such force I could hardly move my jaw. “More treachery. More trickery and deceit. You lie! The Night Mother only speaks to the Listener.” His eyes grew even wilder. “And there is no listener!”

             “Darkness rises when silence dies.” I tried to spit at him around his hand trapping my words. “Darkness rises when silence dies.”

            His hand loosened. “What did you say?” I could move my face now beneath his gloved finger tips.

            “Darkness rises when silence dies.” I had to bring him down. He wasn’t himself right now. He wasn’t Cicero.

            He let go of my arm, but kept his hand on my face. “She said that? She said those words to you? ‘Darkness rises when silence dies’?”

            I nodded to him, putting my hand on his cheek. I wasn’t afraid for my safety, I was more afraid he might hurt himself if he didn’t calm down. “Cicero, darkness rises when silence dies. She told me to tell you.”

            Cicero’s hand released my face entirely, and he stepped back. He blinked twice, looking towards the Night Mother’s coffin.

            “But those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know—Mother’s only way of talking to sweet Cicero.”

            He looked at me again, his entire face transforming from anger to delight. He began to dance around. “Then it’s true. She’s back! Our lady is back! She has chosen a Listener.” He grabbed my hands and pulled me into his dance. “She has chosen you, sweet Arabella! Ha ha ha! All hail the Listener!” I struggled against his dance, wanting to be as far away from him as I could manage. What had happened was far too close to the dream. He released me and I staggered back a few steps.

            “Cicero, what does this mean?”

            Before he could answer, Astrid kicked in the door to the chamber. Most of the family was right behind her. They must have heard Cicero screaming.

            “By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you’ve been planning is over!” She turned to me. “Are you alright? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where’s the accomplice?” Her eyes darted around the room. “Reveal yourself traitor!”

            Cicero laughed at her. “I spoke only to the Night Mother.” He grabbed my hand from behind, and entwined his fingers in mine. “I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn’t speak to me. Oh no. She only spoke to Arabella.” He raised our hands high. “To the Listener!”

            “What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?” Astrid looked right at me.

            “It’s true!” Cicero screamed, releasing my hand. “The Night Mother has spoken. The silence has been broken. The Listener has been chosen!” He danced around excitedly again.

            Astrid approached me. “When I heard Cicero screaming, I knew you’d been discovered. I feared the worst. Are you alright?”

            I cleared my throat. “Yes, Astrid. I’m fine.” I could feel my cheeks swelling up where Cicero had grabbed me.

            A look of utter confusion plastered Astrid’s face. “Then what in Sithis’ name is going on? Cicero spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke…to you? Is this just more of the fool’s rambling?” Cicero scoffed at her beside me.

            “It’s true. The Night Mother spoke to me. She said I was ‘the one’.”

            “What? So Cicero wasn’t talking to anyone else. Just the Night Mother’s body?” As she spoke, I nodded in confirmation. “And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, only speaks to the Listener, just spoke…right now…to you?”

            “Yes, Astrid. I heard her voice, plain as day. In my head.”

            Astrid’s eyes widened. “By Sithis. And? What did she say?”

            Cicero squealed in excitement. “Yes! Arabella, what did our lady say?”

            “She said to go to Volunruud. To speak with a man named Amaund Motierre.”

            “A contract!” Cicero screamed. “Motierre has perform the Black Sacrament, and Mother told sweet Arabella!”

            Astrid grunted. “Amaund Motierre? I have no idea who that is. But Volunruud…that I have heard of. And I know where it is.”

            I was concerned about the whole ordeal, but I found myself incredibly intrigued. “Should I go to Volunruud, then? Speak with this Motierre?”

            “Hmm? No! No, listen: I don’t know what’s going on here, but you take orders from me, Arabella. Are we clear on that?” She waited for my answer, and I hesitated, but I nodded. “The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this family. I will not have my authority so easily dismissed.” She straightened her back, trying to size up. “I…I need time to think about all of this. Go see Nazir, do some work for him. I’ll find you when I’m ready to discuss the matter further.” With that, she turned on her heel and left me and Cicero in the chamber, the rest of our family staring at us.

            I looked at Cicero, who was still smiling and bouncing, just like he was when I met him. I looked away from him, ducking my head as I passed the family and left to see Nazir.


	6. The Redguard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family discusses the sanctuary's most recent events, and express concern that Arabella has not returned home.
> 
> POV: Nazir

            The family was an absolute mess.

            After the incident, all of us were split into two separate groups: those who follow Astrid unconditionally, and those who would look to the Listener.

Cicero, Veezara, and Festus Krex were behind Arabella. Cicero was no surprise, the clown was always spouting about the Night Mother and how hers was the word we should look to. Veezara was a little curious to me, but he had spent a lot of time with Cicero and Arabella. My poor, scaly brother rarely slept, and apparently neither did the other two. Festus Krex surprised me most, but I guess it’s not a big reveal. Krex had much to say about everything, the opinionated brute. He loved telling stories about the Old Ways, and the tales of Sithis and the Night Mother.

One of Festus’ favorite hobbies was talking, and our newfound Listener loved doing just that—listening. She sat in awe of Festus Krex when he got to rambling. In fact, some nights I had to make them get away from the eating area. He could retell the same story again and again, forgetting he’d even told it before, and she would give him her undivided attention every time. I swear, he told her the tale of Mathieu Bellamont six times now. I would kill Mathieu Bellamont myself if it would end the tale telling.

            The rest of the family, Babette, Gabriella, and Arnbjorn, were with Astrid. Babette has been alive for near three hundred years. She says two hundred years ago, she would have followed the Night Mother to the Void and back, but now she looks to Astrid. I think Gabriella just doesn’t like Arabella. She’s never said it directly, but you can see in her eyes a twang of jealousy when Arabella is spoken to by anyone. I’m not sure if it’s about attention or what, but feuding women are one of my favorite things, so I won’t meddle. Or, maybe I will. I’d be very surprised if Arnbjorn thought twice about the Listener. He went where Astrid went, no questions asked.

            It was me who wasn’t sure, the most surprising of all. I thought I would be with Astrid, but some of her actions recently disturbed me. If Astrid really did suspect treason, enough to make her force Arabella into a coffin to eavesdrop, who did she think to be a traitor? Babette and I were the only ones who weren’t behind her when she kicked the door in on our newest members’ little rendezvous. Babette very openly kissed the ground Astrid walked on. That left me. Had she thought me to be a traitor? Did I come off as traitorous?

            Astrid was a smart woman, and she knew it. So why would she think it smart to oppose the Night Mother’s will? If the Night Mother said to do something, according to our history, we were supposed to do it without question. Why would Astrid need time to think it over? There was something about the Night Mother’s presence that I found comforting, as if she was here, wandering the halls, watching over us. I wouldn’t dare cross her.

            Arabella was the most curious family member of all right now. If anyone else were proclaimed Listener, they would at least show a little enthusiasm. When she came to me for work, she was even paler than usual.

            _“Nazir? Astrid told me to come see you for work.”_ Her eyes were distant, like she wasn’t even there.

            _“Are you alright, my girl?”_ I hadn’t yet heard what had happened. I heard the screams, but I was in the middle of a stew, and I thought maybe Cicero was just being annoying.

            Before she answered she looked at me. Her eyes were desperate. She needed to leave, and my mind was screaming to help her. The look on her face was answer enough.

            _“I have two contracts available.”_ I said before she could speak. _“Your targets are Lurbuk and Hern. Lurbuk is an Orsemer who can be found at the Moorside Inn in Morthal. He is, by all accounts, the worst bard in all of Skyrim. Hern is a vampire, living at the Half-Moon mill with his wife, Hert. They should prove to be more difficult.”_ I gave her another once over before I signaled for her to go. _“Kill well, and often.”_

            Arabella nodded her thanks and left immediately after. I’m not even sure if she changed into her armor. The poor girl was still in her sleeping clothes, as she had been roused from slumber to climb into the Night Mother’s iron resting place.

            That was almost two days ago. Since then, Astrid hadn’t left her study, thinking about what to do about the Night Mother. The rest of the sanctuary was booming with talk, stories about where they had been when Cicero began to holler about Arabella being a defiler.

            “I had gone outside to gather some Deathbell for Babette, and I could hear his screams down the path a good way.” Festus Krex was rambling off at the supper table. The whole family was gathered, except for Astrid and Arabella. Even Cicero was seated on a bench in the corner, Veezara perched right above him on the wall. They were speaking to each other quietly. “I thought someone had been attacked. I had hoped Arnbjorn had transformed and was punching someone repeatedly in the face with his wolf fists.” He was standing now, punching the air for effect.

            “I don’t punch. I use my teeth to tear away flesh.” Arnbjorn commented over his bowl of stew.

            “Well, still. An old man can dream.” Krex grumbled, sitting back down.

“Does anyone know when our _dear friend_ will return from her contract?” Gabriella asked, sarcasm dripping from her lips.

“I’ve wondered as well.” Veezara added. “She’s been gone an awfully long time. I was considering going to look for her.”

I rolled my eyes. “Leave the poor girl alone. She has a lot on her mind.”

“And in her mind, too, if the girl tells the truth.” Arnbjorn added, earning a quiet giggle from Babette.

“The Listener tells the truth.” Cicero finally spoke to the whole group. “She said the Binding Words. The words given to her by Mother to tell the Keeper. A phrase only the Keeper knows.”

            “How can you know if she didn’t just figure out the paraphrase?” Babette asked

“The words were written in the Keeping Tomes, a book Cicero lost in the fall of Cheydinhal.” The fool looked at his boots. “It’s Cicero’s fault the Listener has not returned. He shook her quite a bit. He couldn’t help it.”

“Don’t worry, brother. Arabella is very understanding. She knows you meant well.” Veezara tried to comfort Cicero, but he still looked concerned.

            “You don’t worry either, Veezara.” Babette added “Arabella is very capable of taking care of herself. And from what you tell us, she could heal any affliction she could possibly take.”

            “Very true, sister.” Veezara smiled.

            “How about we do less chatting and more eating?” Arnbjorn grumbled. To his distaste, Cicero began to dance around chanting ‘I found the Listener, I found the Listener.’ Arnbjorn grabbed his bowl and left, annoyed with the lot of us.

            Once he was gone, Babette had questions. “Did Astrid really make her climb into the Night Mother’s coffin? That doesn’t seem like something she would do.”

            Veezara’s smile fell. “Yes, sister. I was just around the corner. I heard every word.”

            Babette’s face crumpled into confusion. “How odd.”

            “Hush now, Babette. Eat whatever it is you’re eating.” I said. The gossip would stop soon. Arabella would return, and Astrid would make her decision. Something told me that things were about to go very wrong.


	7. The Jester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero is relieved when Arabella finally returns to the sanctuary, but is concerned at the state she returns in.
> 
> POV: Cicero

            Cicero hadn’t slept since Arabella left on her contract. Cicero had wanted her to stay, but he didn’t ask. Her eyes were wild. She needed to get away for a while.

            Cicero felt horrible for roughing her around. When he heard her breathing from the coffin, he unlocked it, not expecting her to fall out. Cicero saw the look on her face, but the laughter was overwhelming. I couldn’t focus, couldn’t ask what she was doing. All Cicero could do was shake, and shake her.

            Cicero thought that was why she was upset. Cicero had expected her to be excited about being Listener. She came off as horrified, but Cicero thought he is to blame for that. Before she even fell to the floor, her hands were covering her ears, trying to block out the sound. When she hit the ground, her whole face changed, no longer confused, just horrified. She didn’t want Cicero to find her.

            Cicero figured out soon after she left that Astrid had sent her to hide in Mother's coffin and eavesdrop on him. Cicero was angry at first, when Veezara told him, but apparently, sweet Arabella had not wanted to, telling her she couldn’t do it. The harlot Astrid had still made her. In the years protecting the Night Mother, Cicero had been by himself. Almost thirteen years with the laughter as Cicero’s only companion. To see that, after half of my life, Cicero could be so foolish as to let a person sneak into Mother’s coffin, and then to speak while she listened. I was angrier with myself in that moment.

            Seeing me seemed to push her over the edge, though. From scared to horror. Had Cicero looked that angry? _Cicero is a monster. Remember what he did to Rasha. Never forget that Cicero drove Garnag away._

            It had been three days since she left. It was well past midnight, and most of the sanctuary was asleep. The wolf was awake, sharpening weapons, but no doubt he would go to sleep soon. Cicero had stayed awake every day waiting for the Listener to return. Cicero enjoyed spending time with the Listener. There was so much still to figure out about her. He didn’t want his outburst to ruin the friendship he had with her.

            No matter. All Cicero could do now is apologize. He hoped he hadn’t hurt the Listener too much. Surely, Mother would forgive him for being rough with the Listener.

            The dog had finally gone to bed. Cicero heard him groan and shuffle up the stairs to Astrid’s chamber. The silence was deafening, radiating through the musk of the sanctuary. No doubt, the unchild was awake somewhere. She usually was at this hour, what with her vampiric sleeping schedule protecting her from the day. She hadn’t been awake when the Listener was revealed. She and Nazir were the only two who didn’t witness Astrid’s grand display of door-kicking, apparently one of her many talents. Great and powerful door-kicker Astrid.

The rest of the family was behind her, the elf, the wizard, the dog. Veezara was waiting around the corner. Cicero heard him exchange a few sentences with the sweet Listener. _“Are you alright, sister? Can I do anything for you? What do you need?_ ” he had asked. The Listener had only asked where she could find Nazir, then she left the sanctuary. Veezara wasn’t bad. He was actually rather nice. Quiet though. Unnervingly quiet.

            There was a knock on the wall around the corner. Cicero’s room didn’t have a door, but there was a bit of a hallway that kept him hidden. I strained my neck, but I couldn’t see anyone. “Who knocks at Cicero’s door?” I asked quietly.

            “It’s me. Can I come in?” The Listener had returned. Her voice sounded pained.

            “Oh yes, Listener! Come in, come in.” I stood from my bed to greet her.

            When she entered the room, I almost didn’t recognize her. The left side of her face was swollen and purple. The flesh around her pale eye was puffy, no doubt making it difficult to see. A fresh cut on her right cheek had painted her neck crimson with her blood. Though there was a copious amount of blood, the wound looked very old, as if she had been slashed years ago.

            “Listener, sit! Let Cicero help.” I rushed to her to help her sit.

            “What?” Her hand followed my gaze, touching her face. She pulled her fingers away, the tips a luscious shade of sanguine. “Oh, that. It's fine. I just forgot about the blood. I’ll go wash.”

“Nonsense, Listener. Cicero can be of service.” Cicero dashed quickly from the room to retrieve a bowl and a cloth, stopping on the way back to full it with water beneath the Dread Father. When he returned, the Listener still stood awkwardly at the room's entrance. Cicero took her hand, pulling her towards the table to sit. She eased onto the bench, and Cicero placed the bowl on the table and sat right next to her.

Cicero picked up the cloth and dampened it. He held her chin with two fingers as he began to wipe the dried blood away from her skin. Her pale eyes stayed locked on mine, as if she no longer trusted poor Cicero.

“Tell Cicero, who damaged the Listener's face so? Cicero can ensure they will meet a quick end.”

The Listener exhaled sharply with laughter. “Don’t worry about it, brother. Hert lies dead, as does his wife. I was just a bit distracted.”

“Good riddance, says Cicero.”

The Listener laughed softly, then coughed rather harshly. She turned away from me, trying to extract whatever plagued her lungs without coughing in my face. When she turned back to me, she looked apologetic.

“Sorry,” she said. “I believe I may have caught some illness. I slept outside a few nights ago.”

Cicero continued to wipe the blood from her face. He scrubbed at a spot on her ear. “Outside? If the Listener craved a change of scenery, Cicero could have helped her carve a window near her bed.” I raised my eyebrow, expressing my humor.

She laughed. “I didn’t mean to. I was trying to clear my head. Besides, I slept under the stars many nights in my years as a wanderer.” Her face grew sad at the thought.

“The Listener always becomes sad when she talks about her years traveling Skyrim.” I paused, unsure if I should ask. At no protest, I continued. “Cicero wonders why.”

She thought about it for a moment, her eyes still locked in mine. “I left Balimund to look for my family.” She finally looked away. “It was a waste of four years, though. I have no family to tell of.”

“Cicero doesn’t understand. Did the Listener not grow up with Balimund?” When we met, she spoke of this man like he was a father, teaching her how to defend herself from the world.

She smiled slightly, looking back at me. “I suppose I grew up near him. I lived in Honorhall Orphanage until I was sixteen. Balimund and I met shortly after. He’s one of the kindest people I’ve ever known. That’s how I found the Dark Brotherhood. I killed the headmistress of the orphanage.”

            I raised my brow in surprise. “Vengeance? Redemption?”

“No. A young boy was performing the Black Sacrament.” She looked away from me, “All I could think about were my days in the orphanage, the inflictions children received for misbehaving. They were bad, and he had run away, so his punishments must have been worse. I felt so bad for him, I had to help.”

As she spoke, the laughter in my head cleared. I set the cloth down in the bowl, and walked over to the chest near my bed. From it I pulled some healing potions I had made, specifically for reducing swelling. Cicero's feet took most of the weight of carrying Mother's coffin, and they were swollen more often than not. I returned to my seat, and applied a generous amount to the Listener’s left cheek.

“So the Listener is an orphan. Just like lonely Cicero.” I said, rubbing the thick substance against her skin.

Her brow furrowed. “You’re an orphan?”

I laughed. “Cicero is not an orphan in the way the Listener assumes. He left home when he was barely a man, and found the Dark Brotherhood at just fifteen. The family he was born to wasn’t who he was meant to be with.” I rarely thought of my youth, my days before the Dread Lord. “Cicero's father was a mean drunk.”

The Listener’s hand covered mine. It was warm. “I’m sorry, Cicero.” Her eyes were sincere.

“Don’t bother feeling sorry for Cicero. He was never meant to stay. The Brotherhood was Cicero's fate.” I paused for a moment, observing the sadness still in her eyes. “We’re all orphans here, kind Listener. The redguard, the unchild, the wizard, even Astrid and the dog. All with nothing, just like you and me.” I placed my hand under her chin, lifting her face towards me. “You have a family now, my Listener. Brothers and sisters, and Mother who chose you as her favorite.”

The swelling in the Listener’s face had gone down just enough to reveal two bruises on either side of her mouth, where Cicero had held her. Guilt blossomed in my chest. “Sweet Arabella.” I whispered to her, “I am so sorry for this.” I put my fingers over the small purple marks, my fingertips a perfect match. “Sometimes my mind is clouded. I can’t block out the laughter long enough to think.”

“No, Cicero. Do not apologize. It’s your job to protect the Night Mother. I knew that, and I still climbed into her coffin. I am very sorry.” She looked as if she may cry.

“I understand, Listener. Cicero knows that the dog's wife is in charge. ‘Her word is law', remember?” My Astrid impression could use some work.

She laughed rather loudly, a sound I had missed. She ran a hand through her hair, revealing the dark scar on her neck I saw when I first arrived here. It was very long, stretching from her jawline to her collarbone.

“Where did the Listener learn to heal so well?”

She smiled coyly. “The Listener has a lot of free time.”  She yawned, her eyes watering as her jaw stretched.

“Cicero insists you rest. Take his bed. Cicero hardly uses it. He’s an insomniac, after all.”

“Insomnia, he says.” The Listener wiggled her finger at me. “There is no such thing as insomnia, dear brother. Sleep is for the weak and feeble, so perhaps you’re just immensely strong.”

“Cicero can’t argue with the Listener here. She is all but incorrect.” I playfully flexed my muscles. She smiled.

“I’ll sleep in my own bed, Cicero. You rest in yours. It’s been a long day.” She stood to leave. Before she did, she turned to me and placed her hand against my face. “Thank you for all you’ve done for me. I truly value your kindness.”

“Humble Cicero lives to serve.” I placed my hand over hers, taking great comfort in its warmth.

She leaned down to whisper in my ear. “The Night Mother appreciates the work of her humble servant, too.” I pulled my face away from hers, looking at her pale eyes in confusion. She smiled at me. “I am not Mother's favorite. I am just the Listener. She calls you her ‘dear Cicero’.” As my chest tightened at her words, her hand was gone, and she left the room quietly.

            I sat in silence for a few moments, admiring the secrets we had shared. Cicero came to the Brotherhood at fifteen. He had waited seventeen years, more than half of his life, to hear the Night Mother’s voice. I had tried so hard to be Listener, so very hard. But I never would be.

            But I am Mother’s dear Cicero.

            Me.


	8. The Mistress

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid comes to a decision regarding the information Arabella has delivered, supposedly, from the Night Mother herself.
> 
> POV: Astrid

            I had given a lot of thought to this Listener business. I should have anticipated something like this happening.

            When I agreed to let Cicero bring The Night Mother to the sanctuary, I had thought that maybe it would bring the Old Ways back to us. Ultimately, though, I hadn’t thought Cicero to be a madman in his letters. If I’d known that this sort of thing may happen…well, I still would have let him come.

            But this girl, Arabella, being the Listener. I’m not sure if I even believe it. I don’t see her as a liar, but it’s so difficult to wrap my brain around.

            Regardless, I had made my decision. I waited for the rest of the family to gather for the meeting I had called. My husband, Gabriella, and Festus sat at the table. Nazir had gone to rouse Babette from her slumber, and Veezara went to fetch Arabella. She had returned sometime last night, Cicero tells us. He said not to wake her, because apparently she had been hurt out on contract. He insisted we wait until she woke, but this was not her sanctuary. It was mine.

            Babette and Nazir appeared from the sleeping area, the little vampire rubbing sleep from her eyes. After a few moments, Veezara entered the eating area as well, Arabella right behind him. She smiled softly and nodded her greetings to the eyes that watched her. Yeesh, she did look bad, her face swollen slightly below a black eye, and a fresh scar on her previously mark-less cheek. She and Veezara sat on a bench in the corner, Cicero following to stand next to Arabella. The fool handed her a potion, which she drank without even asking what it was. Very interesting, and very trusting. I’d have to look into that.

            “Good, now that we’re all here, we can discuss some business.” I stood to address the entire family. “I’ve done a lot of thinking about the events of the past week, and I’ve decided that someone should travel to Volunruud to speak with the potential contract. I’m still not sure what to believe, but if the Night Mother did in fact speak to Arabella, we would be a fool to ignore her.”

Most of the faces in the room lit up. Babette was grinning so widely her fangs were visible, Nazir and Gabriella exchanged a smile, Festus and my husband grumbled in celebration. Veezara and Cicero exchanged a look of celebration, and Arabella laughed quietly when Cicero began to dance around.

            “Hold on now, there’s still more to discuss. I’ve decided to send Arabella to speak with Motierre, since she’s the one the Night Mother spoke to. She can bring one companion. The rest of us will go back to work. There are a lot of contracts built up, and everyone needs to take at least one. See Nazir for your assignments.” As I turned to leave, I added, “Kill well, and often.” My family echoed the four words, as they always did.

            The group dispersed as I ended my little speech. Arnbjorn was the first to speak with Nazir, no doubt wanting to get the best contract. He seemed pleased with what he was given, and before he left to return to his tools, he gave me a quick kiss.

            I turned my attention to the group of three on the bench. They were speaking quietly, and exchanging smiles. Arabella finally approached me, a soft smile on her face.

            “I’ll bring Veezara with me on my journey to Volunruud. He knows the area better than I do.” she said. Her voice was raspy, like she was catching a cold.

            “Very well, sister. You should leave immediately. We don’t want to make the Night Mother wait any longer than I already have.”

            “Yes, Astrid. We’ll pack a few things and leave now.” She nodded in thanks as she turned away from me. I watched as she relayed the information to Veezara and Cicero. They both looked to me and smiled before all three left in different directions.

            Something irritated me about the bond they all had, like they were hiding some sort of wonderful secret. No matter, it wasn’t any of my business anyway. There was more work to be done, and no time for petty investigations.


	9. The Argonian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veezara and Arabella travel to Volunruud to meet with the mysterious contact.
> 
> POV: Veezara

            As I was waiting on Arabella, I entered Cicero’s room. She had asked if he wanted to go, but he said he wanted to stay behind to protect the Night Mother. Cicero was very worried about Arabella’s cold. She seemed to be doing okay, but he was cutting no corners. He kept making potions for her, trying to cure whatever illness she was festering. He never told her what was in it, and she never asked. The amount of trust they had in each other was amazing. I was almost jealous of it.

            Everyone had someone to trust here. Arnbjorn and Astrid, Nazir and Babette, Festus and Gabriella. I’d gotten used to being the outcast of all outcasts. Arabella was different than everyone else here. She was kind and quiet. She cared more about other people than she cared about herself, something I hadn’t seen very often. Cicero saw it too, I knew that. He wasn’t crazy. Arabella and I both saw that. He had a passion for the Brotherhood I hadn’t seen before. It was just nice to finally be part of a group, to finally feel like part of the family.

            I walked down the little hall that led to Cicero’s bedroom. He was reading a small leather book, probably a journal of sorts.

            “Do you need anything before we leave, my brother?” I asked him.

He looked up at me, a smile on his face. “No, Cicero doesn’t need anything.”

            “Is there anything I can bring back for you?”

            Cicero laughed. “A souvenir for Cicero? No, my scaly friend.” His face grows serious. “Actually, I do need something from you. Can you do favor for Cicero?”

            “Of course, brother. What do you need?” I watched as Cicero went to his bed, and reached underneath it. He pulled out a satchel that rattled as it moved. He brought it over to me and showed me the contents. There were two different kinds of bottles.

            “The red ones are for her cold, and she needs to take one every four hours. She’ll take the first few, but after that she’ll argue. She has to take them. The blue ones are for the swelling in her face. She won’t want to take them at all, they smell awful.” He handed me the satchel, his face deadly serious. “She has to take them. Please make sure Arabella takes these.”

            “I’ll bring her home safe and free of illness, Cicero.” He didn’t look satisfied with that.

            “Here, take this, too.” He pulled a container of some strange gel off of the shelf next to us. “It will reduce the swelling if she won’t take the medicine.” He handed it to me. “She’s unhappy with the swelling. She doesn’t like people thinking she can’t handle herself.”

            “I’ll make sure she has one or the other.” I said to him, placing the container in the satchel.

            Cicero grabbed my hand, his face was desperate. “I trust you Veezara, I do. You have to bring the Listener back safely. She gets ahead of herself, thinks too much. You’ll have to cover her.” He looked at me with such force, I was almost frightened. “We need a Listener, Veezara. Mother needs a Listener.” His face softened a bit. “You and I need Arabella.”

            “I understand, my brother. You have my word, she’ll be in safe hands.” He smiled and released me just before Arabella entered the room. Her face was still swollen, but she wore a smile underneath.

            “Are you ready to go?” She was looking at me.

            I felt my chest flutter, pleased to be the center of her attention. “I am, sister.”

            “Good, good. I just came to say goodbye.” She looked at Cicero.

            “I’ll wait for you outside, then.” I nodded to Cicero, whose face was thankful. I walked around her and down the hallway. I turned back before they were out of sight to see them hug. As I rounded the corner, I paused to hear their whispers.

            _“Please come back to me, Arabella.”_

_“I will, I promise. Don’t cause too much trouble while we’re gone.”_

_“Cicero will try. Mother and I will be waiting for you.”_

            And just as quickly as the fluttering in my chest came, it was replaced by a moment of sheer jealousy. I wanted nothing more than for her to worry for me, to care for me. I heard her coming towards me, and when she appeared, her eyes were darkened with sadness. I smiled to her, trying to comfort her in any way I could. “Come on, sister. Let’s go see Motierre.”

            We passed Astrid on the way out, who only nodded as we passed. Once we were outside, Arabella took a deep breath.

            “It just dawned on me that neither of us have a horse.” She was right.

            “I hope you’re wearing comfortable shoes.” I smiled at her.

            “Of course not, but we’ll go on anyway.”

            “Alright, follow me.” I knew how to get to Volunruud from here. It would be a long walk, but I didn’t mind.

                       

Cicero had been right. She fought me on the cold medicine after about four helpings, and she refused to take the blue medicine at all. She did apply a generous amount of the gel to her face. Anytime she fought, I told her it was for Cicero, and she would take it. Her cold was almost gone, and the swelling in her face had vanished completely.

            We had been traveling for two days. We spent our nights laying under the stars, telling tales we had heard. She knew a great amount about Mathieu Bellamont. No doubt she heard it from Festus. I told her everything I knew about every member of our family, and she told me about her adventures with Cicero before the Brotherhood.

             “How much longer, do you think?” Her question interrupted my thoughts.

            “Not much further. Maybe half an hour.”

            “Good. I’m ready to sleep in my bed.” She laughed.

“You just want to be away from creepy crawly things.” I said, tickling the back of her neck with my talons. She shivered and ran up ahead of me. The past night, she had tried to sleep, only to be woken twice by spiders. Then four more times by imaginary spiders. She threw dirt at me when I laughed at her.

            Arabella really was great company. She was full of laughter and eager to listen to anything I had to stay. Over her first few weeks with us, I found in her a strange companionship. Don’t misjudge me, I enjoyed my whole family, but Arabella was vastly different from the rest of us. She was so young, so innocent, but very wise for her years. She wanted to know everything about everything, but it was apparent that she knew very little about herself.

We were both dressed in our armor today, trying to look official for this Amaund Motierre. Arabella looked out of place in the red and black leather. I was so used to seeing her in her mourner’s clothing, and she looked completely different. She had pulled her hair back today, revealing the scar on her neck, now matching the scar on her cheek. She looked tough, not innocent as she usually did.

            As we approached Volunruud, I asked her, “So what is it you mourn?”

            Her brow furrowed, “What do you mean?”

            “You’re always wearing mourner’s attire. What is it you mourn?”

            She laughed. “I’m mourning the Nord’s sense of fashion, I suppose. It’s the only dress I like. I didn’t even know it was for mourning.”

            “Well, now you know. Will you change?” I asked, smiling stupidly.

            “Never. There’s plenty to mourn for my dear brother.” She pulled her cowl up over her head, and the mask over her face.

            We descended the steps leading to Volunruud, Arabella close behind me. She had a dagger drawn, a fighting technique that caused you to get up close and personal with your victim. A technique she and I had in common, my own blade feeling heavy in my left hand. As we reached the bottom, we approached the door slowly. I placed my hand on the door to open it, but before I could, Arabella put her hand on my arm. I stood back as she pressed her ear to the door. She nodded. “Mhm. Take the one on the right.”

            Before I could even ask, she opened the door and popped inside. I followed closely, and saw her blade come down quickly on a skeleton to the left of the door, the bones flying away as they dismembered. I turned right just in time to catch the other skeleton by the skull. I slammed it hard into the wall, shattering the head and separating it from the bones. As they fell, Arabella nodded in approval, and I tossed the head to the ground.

            “You know, I’ve never seen you in action.” She said with an eyebrow raised.

            “Same to you. Good ear, sister.” I could see her smile under her mask. She nodded towards the stairs, signaling for us to move forward. We walked down the stairs, our weapons raised to anything that could come our way. Some drauger were dead around the corner, so we headed that way. After a few more steps, we were at a door. Arabella looked at me before she approached it.

            “You can do it.” I whispered. She nodded, and opened the door.

            Inside the door, there were two men. The man in front was a Breton like Arabella. The other was an Imperial soldier.

            The Breton spoke first. “By the almighty Divines, you’ve come. You’ve actually come. This dreadful Black Sacrament thing…it actually worked.”

            Arabella snorted. “The Night Mother heard your pleas, Motierre.”

            “Yes, um…So it would seem. Well, I won’t waste your time. I would like to arrange a contract. Several, actually.” He hesitated, then walked up to us rather briskly. I placed my hand on my blade, and he stopped. “I daresay, the work I’m offering has more significance than anything your organization has experienced in, well, centuries.”

            “Go on.” I said.

            “As I said, I want you to kill several people. You’ll find the targets, as well as their manners of elimination, quite varied. I’m sure someone of your disposition will probably even find it enjoyable.” Arabella’s back stiffened at the words. “But you should know that these killings are but a means to an end. For they pave the way to the most important target.”

            “Spit it out, Motierre.” Arabella said in a harsh whisper.

            “The real reason I’m speaking with two cutthroats in the bowels of this detestable crypt is that I seek the assassination of the Emperor.”

            Arabella coughed loudly. “You want us to kill the Emperor…of Tamriel?”

            “That is correct. What I ask is no small thing, of course. But you represent the Dark Brotherhood. This is what you do? No?” He laughed. “You must understand. So much has led to this day. So much planning, and maneuvering. Now, it’s as if the stars have finally aligned. You’ve finally come!”

            Behind him, the Imperial grunted. Motierre got ahold of himself. “But I digress. Here, take these. They need to be delivered to your, um, superior. Rexus…” he clapped twice, signaling his guard to approach. “…the items!” I rolled my eyes, disgusted by this pompous asshole. The Imperial stepped towards Arabella. She extended her gloved hand, taking the items, an amulet and a letter.

            “The sealed letter will explain everything that needs to be done.” Motierre added. “The amulet is quite valuable—it can be used to cover any and all expenses.”

            Arabella nodded, and looked right at Motierre. “I’m sure we’ll be speaking again soon.” She gestured to me to that it was time to go. We both strode from the crypt with mocked elegance, representing the Brotherhood as well as we could. I was screaming on the inside. The Emperor?

            When we got outside, Arabella took off running. I followed quickly after her, up the stairs and into the field surrounding the entrance. She ran for quite a while, then jumped and rolled into the grass. She laid in the grass for a few minutes, smiling as she tried to catch her breath. I flopped down next to her, watching her face as she laughed. I couldn’t help but laugh too as she laughed even harder. Soon we were both in tears, clutching our ribs and rolling in the grass. She pulled her cowl off, and flung it behind us, her face red and soaked with sweat.

            “The Emperor of Tamriel.” I said, still laughing. “By Sithis, the Emperor of Tamriel.”

            “This is real.” Arabella said, her laughter growing quieter. “I’m the Listener.”

            We laid there in silence for a while, looking at the trees. It was a very hot day, and we were both sweating through our stiff leather armor.

            After a while, I finally stood. I extended my hand to Arabella, helping her to her feet. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go show the family how well you listen.”


	10. The Dunmer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family anxiously awaits to hear the details of Veezara and Arabella's journey.
> 
> POV: Gabriella

            She wasn’t lying, to my great disappointment.

            I had hoped Arabella was just as mad as Cicero, then maybe we would have had an excuse to send them both away. The two were thick as thieves, always talking and laughing and tiptoeing around the sanctuary in the middle of the night. I didn’t care for either of them. What was worse was they managed to rope Veezara into all of this. He was maybe just as mad as them, though I figured he was just smitten with the new girl.

            But unfortunately, Arabella was telling the truth. She and Veezara had returned a few hours ago, and the whole family had been awaiting their arrival. Honestly, I don’t think Cicero slept a wink in the five days they were gone. I heard him singing in his room, dancing through the halls, talking to Babette in the night. It was maddening just listening to him talk about our new Listener. How skilled she was with a wrench but how he worries for her innocence at the sake of the blade. What a twisted man, what did he think? That she was the family’s blacksmith? No. We had Arnbjorn for that.

            No matter, they had returned, and we were all waiting. When we heard the black door close, we all jumped to get to Astrid’s study first. When almost all of us had made it to the room, Astrid was sitting in her chair, and the two wanderers were standing in front of her, Arabella holding a folded paper and Veezara holding an amulet.

            “Let’s hear it, girl.” Festus said. He’d been talking nonstop about how the Old Ways were coming back to light, and he was ready to have confirmation of a new Listener.

            “Yes, Arabella and Veezara, tell us the tale of your meeting with the Night Mother’s contract.” Suspicion dripped off of Astrid’s tongue like mead.

            Veezara and Arabella exchanged a look, Veezara nodding encouragement. Arabella looked at us, then to Astrid. “Motierre wants us to kill…the Emperor.”

            The silence in the room was deafening. Astrid broke it after a moment. “You’re joking.” Veezara set the amulet on the table, and Arabella handed her the letter. “What’s this?”

            “The letter explains it all.” Veezara said quietly. “The amulet is to cover expenses.” Astrid spent a minute reading, then rereading the letter while we waited in anticipation.

            “By Sithis, you’re not joking.” Astrid looked at us, then back at the letter. “To kill the Emperor of Tamriel…the Dark Brotherhood hasn’t done such a thing since the assassination of Pelagius.” Krex laughed in the background. “As a matter of fact, no one has dared assassinate an Emperor of Tamriel since the murder of Uriel Septim, and that was two hundred years ago.”

            Arabella spoke quietly. “Surely the Night Mother wouldn’t misdirect us.” My word, this girl really was the Listener.

            “No, she certainly wouldn’t.” Astrid replied. “And for whatever reason, she chose to relay Motierre’s information to you.” She stood from her seat and straightened so she was looking down at Arabella. “I don’t know what’s going on here, if you’re the Listener, or this is some fluke, or what. But what we have now before us…”

            “So we’ll accept the contract?” Veezara asked, sounding almost defensive.

            Astrid laughed, “You’re damn right we’ll accept it. If we pull this off, the Dark Brotherhood will know a fear and respect we haven’t seen in centuries. You think I’d abandon an opportunity to lead my family to glory?” She thought for a moment. “But this is all so much to take in. I need time to read the letter and to figure out where we go from here. And this amulet…hmm…” Astrid exchanged an evil look with me.

            “What are you thinking?” Babette asked eagerly

            “I’m thinking we need this amulet appraised. I want to know where it came from, how much it’s worth, and if we can actually get away with selling it.” She looked at me again, one eyebrow raised. “And there’s only one man who can give us what we need—Delvin Mallory.” At some puzzled looks, she explained “He’s a fence, a private operator. Works out of the Ratway in Riften. Gabriella and I will travel tonight and visit him. Mallory and the Brotherhood go way back.”

            Oh yeah, Astrid and Delvin go way back, if you catch my meaning. Probably why she wants me to go with her and not Arnbjorn.

            “I’ll run and pack some things.” I said.

            This girl becoming Listener was working out pretty well for Astrid.


	11. The Listener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella has yet another disturbing dream. Later, Arabella and Cicero play a game of question-and-answer.
> 
> POV: Arabella

I was floating in the black of slumber. I dreamt of Balimund crying, something I had only seen once before. In my dream, Balimund held Grelod the Kind, her body limp in death. He stared at me as he cried, the orphans standing behind him, cheering. I fell to my knees, begging for forgiveness. When I looked up, Astrid stood before me.

            “Grelod the Kind was, by all rights, a Dark Brotherhood contract. A kill that you stole.” She leaned towards me. “A kill that you must repay.”

            “You want me to murder someone else?” I asked. “Who?”

            Astrid’s eyes moved to look beside me. Three hooded victim were with us, hands bound and unidentifiable.

            “Who are you?” I asked, just as I had before.

            The voice that spoke was familiar. “Bell? Is that you, my girl?” Divines, it was Balimund. Not him. I couldn’t end him.

            I walked to the next victim, hands bound and hooded just as Balimund. I asked, crying now, “Who are you?”

            The voice was Cicero’s. “Listener, please. You don’t have to do this. You can kill her now, save yourself.”

            Beyond my sobs, Astrid laughed as I walked to the last victim.

            “Who are you?” I asked, barely audible through my hysteria.

            _“This is not what you are meant to see.”_ It was the Night Mother’s voice.

            _“Wake up.”_

            When I woke, I was in my bed. How long had I been asleep? It must be night time, for I didn’t hear any conversation or Arnbjorn working his tools. I got out of bed to change out of my stiff armor.

            I traveled to my sleeping area, where Festus Krex, Veezara, and Nazir were sleeping soundly. Gabriella was absent, out on her mission to appraise the amulet with Astrid. I changed into my apparent mourner’s attire, pulled my hair back with a ribbon, grabbed a dagger, and headed for the black door.

            I didn’t bother keeping quiet as I walked through the study. With Astrid gone, there wouldn’t be anyone to accidentally wake. Arnbjorn slept like the dead.

            Once I was outside, I took a deep breath, trying to exhale the dream from my mind. I was fully rested, though I wasn’t sure how I ended up in my bed. Since we’d been back, Veezara and I had spent all of our time with Cicero. We told the tales of our adventure to Volunruud, and Cicero had told us of what went on while we were gone. I must have fallen asleep somewhere in the midst of talking, and someone had taken me to my bed.

            I climbed up on top of the hill above the sanctuary. I climbed until I was as high up as I could possibly go without falling, then sat down with my legs hanging off of the edge. I watched the moon and the stars, thinking about my dream.

            Even when I was young, I didn’t dream very often. When I was with Balimund, I didn’t dream very often. When I was a wanderer, I didn’t dream very often. Only since I had joined the Brotherhood, really since I’d become Listener, had I started dreaming, and I was worried about what this meant.

            I heard a twig snap behind me, and whirled my head around, my hand flying to the dagger on my hip. A dark figure stalked toward me, but before I could make out a face, I saw the outline of a jester’s cap flopping behind the figure’s head. I laughed, relaxing significantly.

            “Cicero didn’t mean to frighten the Listener.”

            I turned back to face the moon, “It’s alright. I was just deep in thought.”

            Cicero closed the distance between us, and sat down next to me. He looked at my face for a moment. “Has the Listener been crying?”

            I reached up to feel my cheeks, and they were in fact wet. I hadn’t even realized. I had to get better at that. “I guess I was.”

            Cicero rolled his sleeves up and took off his hat. He leaned back on his palms, looking up at the sky. “Hot tonight.” He looked at me, smiling crookedly. “Does the Listener want to talk about what sadness plagues her?”

            I smiled too. “I’ve never seen you without a hat on.” His hair was a shade of dark auburn, and was well past his shoulders, almost longer than mine. “You look nice.” What? Did I really say that?

            “Cicero has never seen the Listener with her hair pulled back.” I had forgotten my hair was back, I reached up to touch the scar stretching from my jawline to my right shoulder. I laughed quietly, remembering that day. “The Listener looks nice too.”

            I remained quiet, not even sure what to tell him. I trusted Cicero, but I wasn’t sure how to confide this in anyone.

            “Cicero doesn’t like the quiet. He spent almost half of his life in absolute silence, and now the silence makes the laughter erupt loudly in his head.” He looked at me, his eyes sad. “How about Cicero asks the Listener a question, and she answers, then the Listener asks Cicero a question, and he answers, okay?”

            “Okay, brother.” I took a deep breath, thinking of an answer to his first question. “I’m sad for a lot of reasons, I suppose. I miss Balimund most days. Some days, I don’t miss him at all, and I miss the family I never knew.” I paused. “I’ve had dreams about the Dark Brotherhood, premonitions I think. Bad days are coming to us.” Cicero nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer. “Why do you speak in third person?”

            Cicero thought for a moment. “Cicero supposes it’s because he doesn’t feel like himself most of the time. It’s easier to talk about myself as if I’m not really me.”

I must have looked confused, so he explained further. “I was a lot like you when I joined the Dark Brotherhood. As Cicero told you before, I was fifteen when I was recruited. I was quiet, but eager to have adventure, just like the Listener is now. When I was appointed Keeper, I was excited, but also saddened. I was proud to have been chosen to be Mother’s sole caretaker, but it meant I would never lift a blade again.

“When the Cheydinhal sanctuary fell, only few survived. Some died, some left for food and never came back. Cicero waited for thirteen years with Mother, protecting her. He spent eight years by himself entirely. In those years, he was given the laughter of his final kill to keep him company.”

He watched my face as he spoke. “Cicero now is not how I used to be. Cicero now is loud and happy and whimsical. The real Cicero is quiet and understanding, and that is me.” He cleared his throat before continuing. “Why does the Listener cover her scar?”

            I waited few ticks, still absorbing his story. “It tells the story of the time a bandit tried to slit my throat. I laid in the grass and pretended to be dead while they took what they wanted from my pockets and left me to die. I tried to heal it, but I was panicking and it looks rough.” Cicero traced the scar with his finger from shoulder to jawline, then back to shoulder. I hardly felt it. “Why did you go to Dawnstar before you came to Falkreath?”

            “Cicero was worried about bringing Mother to a sanctuary full of people. He was worried someone might pretend to be the Listener, and I wouldn’t be able to find the real one.” His finger stopped on my shoulder, tapping twice. I was the Listener. “Why did the Listener live in Honorhall Orphanage?”

            I took a deep breath, ready to regale my childhood to Cicero. “Well, my parents were bandits. We lived in a fort outside of Riften with a bunch of other ruffians. My father disappeared when I was maybe six. I know he didn’t die, no matter how much the world told me otherwise. My mother made sure that I knew he had another family, a lovely Nord wife and two sons, and that she had been his secret mistress. I, of course, was the physical evidence of his indiscretion.

“To hear her tell it, he was the star-crossed love of her life, and he loved her more deeply than she’d ever known. But he chose his real family, and left me and my mother behind. I think that’s what bothers me, more than anything. Now that I’m no longer a child and old enough to understand, I know why he left my mother. She was a high elf bandit who lived in a communal shack with a dozen men. But why didn’t he choose me? How could he return to his other children, my brothers, and know he had another child living in the fields?

“My mother took care of me for a few years on her own, but she couldn’t bring a child on raids. Finally, when I was eight, she took me to Honorhall in Riften, and she said she’d come back and get me soon. I never saw her again.”

Cicero was still watching my face, watching to see if I would express any emotion towards it. I smiled at him. “It’s alright now. I wouldn’t have found you or the Night Mother without my years at Honorhall. I was on my way to Whiterun to visit another orphan when I found you on the road.” Cicero laughed while I tried to think of a new question.

            My smile faded once it was in my head. I wasn’t sure if I should ask, but now that I’d thought of it, it wouldn’t go away. I looked at Cicero, his face content. “Cicero, did you want to be Listener?”

            Cicero’s face fell. I immediately regretted asking. “Well, yes. I did try very hard to be Listener. I listened very hard, but Mother wouldn’t speak to me. Cicero is the Keeper, and Arabella is the Listener, and all is well.”

He sat up, taking the weight off of his palms. He ran his hand through his long hair, then looked at me. “Do I frighten you?” I felt my brow furrow, and he lifted his hand to interrupt whatever I was thinking. “Be honest with Cicero. The day you fell out of Mother’s coffin, did you think I would hurt you?”

            “No, I didn’t.” I paused, looking up at the sky. “I was more afraid you were going to hurt yourself. Your job is to protect her, and I understand your reaction. But Cicero, I knew you wouldn’t hurt me. I trust you, more than I have ever trusted anyone.”

            Relief spread across his face, but was accompanied soon after by guilt. “Oh, Arabella. I tried so hard not to hurt you, but the laughter was so loud I couldn’t hear my own thoughts screaming at me to stop. Cicero is so sorry.”

            “Stop apologizing. It feels like it happened years ago.”

Cicero seemed like he wasn’t even sure what to say. “I would do anything to protect the Night Mother, to please the Dread Lord, to serve the Dark Brotherhood. But I would never do anything to hurt the Listener.”

            I felt sobs forming in my chest. I tried to shake them away, to keep myself from crying. This was a lot of emotions all at once. I needed to change the subject. “How old are you?”

            Cicero laughed quietly. “Odd question. Cicero is thirty.” He turned his whole body to face me. “How old is the Listener?”

            “The Listener is twenty-four.” I couldn’t look at him as I asked the next question. “Do you trust Astrid?” My voice was barely a whisper.

            Cicero thought for a long time. “I don’t know. Do you?”

            I couldn’t stop the tears now. “I don’t know either.” I was really crying now. Divines, stop me.

            Cicero sat quietly while I pulled myself together. He didn’t say anything until I spoke first.

            “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t even sure what I was apologizing for.

            “Don’t be sorry, Arabella. Cicero understands sadness.” He was quiet again for a few minutes. “What did you dream?”

            Before I could answer, we heard a horse approach below us. We were silent as it came to a stop and two figures dismounted. It wasn’t until we heard Gabriella’s laugh that we relaxed. We stayed silent until they’d gone inside.

            “The mistress is back.” Cicero said.

            “Yes, she is. We should probably go in.” I stood to leave, Cicero standing quickly beside me. Before I moved, he grabbed my arm. He stared down at me, looking like a completely different person without his jester’s hat on.

            “Please tell me if you’re worried about something. I trust your instincts, for they are Mother’s instincts too. But I trust you, Arabella.”

            I nodded before he put his hat back on and rolled his sleeves down. He was transforming himself from Cicero the friend and brother to Cicero the jester. His strongest armor, acting as a fool to push people away.

            I took his hand, gaining his full attention. I said to him, as he said to me, “I would do anything to protect the Night Mother, to please the Dread Lord, to serve the Brotherhood. But I would never do anything to hurt the Keeper.”

            Now Cicero looked as if he may cry, so I pulled him with me as we climbed down the hill towards the sanctuary, where Astrid was waiting for us to announce her news from Delvin Mallory.


	12. The Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family awaits information from the trip and orders from Astrid.
> 
> POV: Festus Krex

            Astrid and Gabriella tapered in around five in the morning. I was already up, unfortunately. Veezara was jumbling about looking for something to do. The boy is always awake, it’s maddening. That day, he decided to wash every plate and tankard in the sanctuary. Not that I’m unappreciative, I would just appreciate it more if he cleaned more quietly.

            That was a few hours prior. Everyone was up at this time and standing around the practice area below the Shrine of Sithis. We were waiting for Astrid to give us information. I was standing with Babette. The little vampire was bouncing up and down excitedly, something I’d never seen her do. The girl was usually very quiet, or very sarcastic. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her this excited. Nazir was talking to Veezara, though the Argonian was preoccupied with watching Arabella and Cicero. The girl was talking to Arnbjorn, who was working his tools, as usual. I could hear her complimenting his forge, and offering to help him. He seemed grateful for the offer, calling her tidpiece or beefshank or whatever.

            After a few minutes, Astrid and Gabriella emerged from the study, and we all went silent.

            “Good tidings, family. Gabriella and I bring good news from Riften.” She held up a piece of paper. “The amulet belonged to someone on the Elder Council. Sneaky Motierre must have swiped it, but it’s worth a great deal. Mallory offered us a letter of credit.” The family nodded in acceptance.

            “Now, to the more important business. The targets.” We all cheered, and Astrid gave a coy smile. “I’ve decided to send everyone out, in small groups. It will be safer like this, a group of you coming up with a strategy and covering each other. Since the Night Mother relayed the information to Arabella, she will do the honor of delivering the kills.” I applauded her, as did Cicero, Veezara, Nazir, and Babette. Arnbjorn and Gabriella seemed less than satisfied, but they said nothing.

            “Our first target is Vittoria Vici, the cousin of the Emperor. We’ll be crashing her wedding Tirdas. Babette, Veezara, and Cicero will attend the wedding with Arabella. I chose this group for specific reasons. The wedding is at night, giving Babette an advantage in seeing in the dark. Veezara is quick to come up with escape plans, in case they are needed. Cicero is good with distractions, I’ve found, which could be of use to you all.

“Tirdas approaches in five days, and it takes place in Solitude. I hope you all have something nice to wear, because you should leave today.” The group leaving today cheered, and those staying behind grumbled. I was excited either way, whether I went or stayed. I would probably be sent out on the next mission.

            “I’ll have the next target and the group going prepared by the time you all return. Kill well and often, family.” With that, Astrid returned to her study, leaving the rest of us to celebrate. Nazir congratulated Babette, who was dancing around in excitement, Veezara had moved to stand by Arabella, who was flushed in honor. I saw Cicero coming right for me, his face concerned. Once he got to me, he smiled politely.

            “Congratulations, Keeper! An adventure you’ll have, I’m sure of it.”

            “Cicero thanks you, kind wizard. Cicero does have a favor to ask of you, though.” His face became serious.

            “Sure, my boy. What is it?”

            His voice was low. “Could Festus Krex look in on Mother? I won’t be gone longer than I have to be, to protect the Listener, but could you make sure her coffin and chamber are taken care of?”

            I was exactly sure what that entailed, but I agreed anyway. “Sure, sure. No problem.”

            Cicero danced around me, humming and singing and yelling. “The kind wizard! Mother will be so pleased with you.”


	13. The Vampire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babette, Cicero, Arabella, and Veezara travel to Solitude to attend a wedding.
> 
> POV: Babette

            We had finally made it to Solitude, and I was finally understanding why Veezara was so infatuated with the two newest members of our family.

            Veezara had always been very quiet, very somber, but there was something about the two new fools that made him talkative and excited. We took Cicero’s horse and the wagon he brought the Night Mother in. Even when I had to climb into my small boxed tomb to sleep away the sunlight, I could hear their chatter. When the moon rose, and I emerged, none of them went to sleep, eager to stay up and tell me of what they saw as I slept.

They took turns driving, Veezara and Cicero. Arabella tried once for a bit, but she was dreadful at it, veering off the road and knocking off one of the wagon’s wheels. I had honestly thought they’d all be upset that the wheel had come off, that we’d be set back a few hours, but Cicero and Arabella had a good laugh about it. Apparently, that’s how they met.

Arabella repaired the wagon wheel while we waited. The whole time, she and Cicero kept saying ‘Wagon wheel, damnedest wagon wheel’ like it was a joke or something. Veezara and I had no idea what was going on, but we went with it.

We stopped for the night after that, camping under a tree off the road. Veezara slept a few hours, as he usually does, and Arabella slept maybe an hour, but Cicero stayed awake the whole night, watching Arabella. I found it rather disturbing at first, him watching her all the time, but I soon found it rather charming. He said his duty was to protect the Night Mother with his life, and by extension, the Listener, as she is the Night Mother’s voice. I think he just liked the girl and wants to keep her safe. Their connection is almost enviable.

            I’d known Veezara his whole life, what with me being immortal and all. But these two were foreign to me, and I was actually dreading this trip. I was excited at first, having been chosen to go, but when I realized I’d be the odd man out, I was less enthused.

            The three of them went to great lengths to include me in everything they did, though. They told me stories of their travels, Arabella showed us her most interesting spells, Cicero danced about when he was excited, and they asked me to tell tales of the Dark Brotherhood hundreds of years ago. When they told a story, any of them, they acted the whole thing out, which was endlessly entertaining. At one point, Cicero insisted Veezara share the story of his journey to Volunruud with Arabella.

            “Oh great, Cicero. Thank you so much for bringing this up.” She nudged him playfully from where she was sitting in the grass. Cicero grabbed her around the shoulders and shook her around like a child’s doll.

            “Shut up, Listener. Babette hasn’t heard this story.” Cicero poked Arabella’s face several times. “Unchild, this is the story of the century. Cicero would kill to have seen it.” I nodded excitedly, actually very curious about what the story was.

            Veezara stood, striding gracefully to stand before all of us. Cicero had his fingers at the corners of Arabella’s mouth, moving her lips from smiling to frowning. If she minded at all, she didn’t let it show. Veezara saw this and started laughing. It took a few minutes for him to get a hold of himself, but after Cicero stopped, he began his story.

            “Well, our Arabella was sleeping in the grass, and I was keeping watch. She had been asleep maybe half an hour when we heard the spiders twitching in the grass behind us. Before I could even move, she had jumped up and ran to end their noise with her dagger.” Veezara mocked Arabella’s running, then used his arm to crudely mimic the slashing of a blade.

“She walked back over to me and laid back in her spot on the grass. She had her arm over her eyes and she was almost asleep when another spider came crawling towards us. She sat up, again before I could move, and she had killed the spider and returned to her spot in about a minute.” Cicero started laughing madly, looking at me and nodding. This must be the good part.

“Finally, after about an hour, Arabella was really asleep. I had grabbed a branch that was laying nearby the tree I was leaning on, and I began to wiggle it in the grass. Arabella jumped up and ran about the field looking for a spider, but she never found one. It happened three times more before I was discovered and I received a face full of dirt for my act of injustice.”

            Cicero rolled around in the grass laughing. Arabella was laying on her stomach, her face buried in the grass and covered by her arms. I laughed too, genuinely amused more at her embarrassment than the actual story. Veezara was hopping around, making his way towards Arabella to crawl his fingers on her back, mocking spider movements with his fingers. As she squirmed away from him, Veezara fell on the ground, laughing as wildly as Cicero.

            Arabella stood and moved to sit next to me. We watched the two men cling to each other and laugh, rolling around in the grass and slamming their fists into the earth. Arabella looked at me and shook her head. “Astrid stuck us with the madmen. What are we going to do?” I shook my head, and we both laughed at how ridiculous the two were acting.

 

            When we got to Solitude though, we were all business. We rented a room at the Winking Skeever the night before the wedding to come up with a plan to assassinate Vittoria Vici. Cicero had many exuberant ideas about plunging knives into her belly and stabbing her like the butcher, but Arabella and Veezara wanted to hear what I had to say, a very refreshing change for me indeed.

            Though I am the oldest of all of my family members, people rarely ask for my assistance in anything. I suppose my appearance is rather off-putting. It’s been quite a boon, looking like a child and all. I have been alive near three hundred years, and I have carried out many kills. I was very pleased when they asked what I thought they should do.

            “Well, it will be a very public scene. We’re all used to stealth kills, slitting throats when no one is around to see it. This will be very different.” I had drawn out a map of the courtyard where the ceremony was being held. I pointed to where Vici would be. The three of them looked at the map, nodding intently.

            “Solitude.” Cicero said. “Lonely Cicero could tell you a thing or two about _solitude_.” Veezara placed a hand on his shoulder, then signaled for me to continue.

“This is where Vittoria and her new husband will sit. My suggestion is using this,” I pointed right above the seating area. “This is an old gargoyle. It’s loose. Arabella, when the bride and groom go upstairs to address the crowd, you should push the gargoyle off its mount to crush the bride.”

            “And what about us, sister?” Veezara asked

            “We all need to keep Arabella in our sight, but she needs to be able to make a quick escape once the deed is done. Once that gargoyle hits Vittoria, everyone’s eyes will travel to where the stone dropped from. Arabella needs to be gone by then.” The three of them nodded, waiting for the rest of my idea. “I think Veezara should be outside of Solitude, on the other side of the wall. Cicero, Arabella and I will be in the courtyard, waiting for the best time to make our move. We’ll be able to pass for a family, since Arabella and I look fairly alike.” My fellow Breton smiled and nodded, and Cicero’s eyes were wild with excitement.

            “Ohhh, Cicero gets a pretty wife and an adorable daughter.” Cicero pinched Arabella’s cheeks playfully before she slapped his hands away. The Keeper looked at Veezara. “And Cicero’s dear brother Veezara will…well, we’ll bring him some cake!”

            I laughed at how crazy the man was, then continued. “We’ll dress up and attend the wedding, and when the newlyweds head up to the balcony, Arabella will steal away to the gargoyle. Once Vittoria is dead, Arabella, you’ll have to jump off of the wall and into the water below.” Her eyes widened at the word ‘jump’. “Well, I suppose you could climb down, but it will take more time. Since Argonians have an incredible invincibility when it comes to swimming, Veezara will wait in the water below to help you, well, not drown. No doubt the courtyard will be a madhouse by then, so Cicero and I should be able to get out undetected. We’ll all meet at the stables, and then we’ll get out of here.”

            The three were silent for a moment, then Arabella said, “I love it. It’s genius, Babette.”

            “Yes, sister. This should work.” Veezara grinned widely.

            “Cicero is going to a party!” The jester yelled, “Finally some fun for poor Cicero!”

           

            That’s how we ended up in the crowd of the wedding. The Keeper had changed out of his jester’s attire and into an outfit he had found at the Winking Skeever. His hair was long and straight past his shoulders, and he looked much younger without his hat to shadow his face. His jaw was clenched to contain his excitement, trying not to blow our cover.

Arabella, too, had changed out of her typical mourner’s attire and changed into a blue dress that made her gray eyes look even paler. Her hair fell in waves around her face, and she was even wearing a hint of rouge on her cheeks, taking away from the white in her skin. I had worn a simple dress, and let my hair fall as it usually did, the dark of night shielding my true identity from onlookers.

            Once we arrived, we became talented thespians, Arabella and Cicero holding hands and kissing each other on the cheek, and Cicero twirling me around and dancing with me like father and daughter. I’m not even sure how much of it was really an act. They both seemed so at ease, like it was fun to pretend not to be assassins for a little while. We blended right in with the crowd, and even managed to earn a few compliments on what a lovely family we were. Veezara was somewhere below, waiting patiently for Arabella to climb down to him. Earlier that morning, Veezara and Cicero had secured a rope ladder for her to use to climb down from the wall, as jumping off seemed to frighten her more than killing a woman in front of a group of people.

Cicero put on the most impressive performance of all. He was so dedicated to being involved in this, he hadn’t sung one gruesome song or danced about like a madman. He didn’t even speak in third person, as he usually did. He acted as a sane, loving husband and father.

            We sat on a bench in the crowd, Cicero in between Arabella and me. The Keeper had his arm around Arabella, still firmly attached to his ‘husband’ persona. His other hand held a piece of cake, as promised, for Veezara. As Vittoria and her husband headed upstairs toward the balcony, Arabella whispered in Cicero’s ear, making him smile.

            “Oh, but you’ll miss the speech, my dear wife. Can’t you wait another moment?”

            Arabella gave him a wink. “I’m afraid not, husband. Too much wine for your dear wife, and she can wait no longer.”

            “Alright then. But hurry, my love!” Cicero and Arabella had spoken just loud enough for the people around us to hear. Cicero turned to the men sitting behind us. “My woman has a bladder the size of a septim.” He said, earning a few laughs. We were actually making this work.

            Vittoria stepped up then, in front of her audience. “My husband and I thank you for coming to our reception. We thank you for honoring the love we have for each other. Today, the problems of Skyrim are not my problems, nor are they yours. Today, we are joined in peace and happiness. So please, enjoy yourselves.”

            That’s when the gargoyle came down, toppling off of the ledge and cracking on top of the bride. Vittoria didn’t even have a moment to cry out before her neck snapped, and she flipped over the edge of the balcony and splattered on the ground before us. Blood pooled from her cracked skull, painting the pavement we stood on.

The screams of the crowd rose up, and Cicero’s hand squeezed mine as he tried to contain himself. I turned just in time to see Arabella jump off the wall of Solitude and fly into the dark of night, not even hesitating or thinking to use the ladder. We waited, straining ourselves to hear a splash above the noise of the crowd. I’m not sure about Cicero, but I never heard one.

Cicero sprung up then, and pulled me toward the exit. We weren’t noticed, as everyone was running about quite frantically. Once we were in the streets, I began to yell.

            “Vittoria Vici has been killed! The Stormcloaks must have done it. Oh, papa, how could you bring me to such a terrible wedding?”

            Cicero was trying so hard to contain his laughter. His hair was flying behind him, free from the usual grasp of his jester’s cap. “Oh, dearest daughter, how could I have known Vici would be murdered at her own wedding? If the guards around here did their jobs, the Stormcloaks wouldn’t have murdered poor Vittoria!” He playful bopped a guard on the head as we ran past. We made it to the gates and sprinted to the stables soon after, keeping pace with each other as best as we could with my small legs and Cicero’s innate urge to ensure Arabella’s safety.

            Veezara was already at the wagon, mounted and ready to go. His armor was clearly wet, meaning he had pulled her out, but Arabella was nowhere in sight. We hopped into the wagon, and Veezara started to move.

            “Where is the Listener?” Cicero screamed, his eyes bolting around.

            “She’s coming, brother. She’s changing, disposing of the clothes, in case she was seen.” Veezara picked the wagon up to full speed.

            “Where is the Listener, Veezara? I don’t see her. Why are we moving?” Cicero was losing his mind, about to jump out of the wagon and find her himself.

            Just then, Arabella popped out of the stables and came running after the wagon. She closed the distance between us, pumping her legs at full speed. For a moment, she was just a blur of dark hair and darker armor. Anxious as he saw her, Cicero reached his arm out to her. She grabbed on to him, and with one arm, he pulled her into the wagon.

Her hair was wet and the rouge on her face was running down her face, revealing the scars on her neck and cheek. She wiped the makeup away, water droplets trickling down her face from her eyelashes and hair. Still in his arms, Cicero held her for a moment, his eyes closed while he brought himself back from whatever land a lunacy he was in a moment before.

            Once she was in the wagon and Cicero had calmed down, we all celebrated loudly. Veezara and Arabella hugged, and Cicero picked me up and spun me around. Arabella then hugged me and Cicero gave her a friendly kiss on the cheek.

            Finally, Cicero plopped the piece of cake into Veezara’s lap. “Oh, vanilla! My favorite. Someone else steer.” Cicero grabbed the reins, and we headed for home, still laughing as Veezara ate his souvenir.


	14. The Boss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Astrid speaks with Babette about the details of her contract, then gives the details for the next step of Motierre's contract.
> 
> POV: Astrid

            They actually pulled it off, to my great surprise, without a hitch.

            They all told the tale of their kill, the lot of us gathered around to hear all about it. As fate would have it, Babette devised the plan. She refused to take credit for it, but the other three insisted that the success was hers to take. They had posed as a family, Cicero, Arabella, and Babette. Veezara waited below outside of the city, and he had pulled Arabella out of the water after she killed the bride and jumped off the wall.

            After the excitement of their return came to an end, Babette and I sat in my study, talking about the details of the contract they had just completed. The rest of the family was in the eating area, and I could hear Cicero retelling the story quite loudly to everyone else. Occasionally, Veezara would add a detail or two, and Arabella would laugh with the rest of the family, but everyone was listening to Cicero. Even Gabriella was down there, and she couldn’t stand the fool.

            “What do you say of your family’s performance on this contract, Babette?” I asked the small vampire.

            “My family performed quite well, Astrid. I already knew Veezara was a skilled assassin, but Cicero and Arabella put on a fine display of dedication. They looked to me for wisdom, being the oldest member of the Brotherhood. It was rather refreshing.” The girl smiled, something I didn’t see very often.

            “So they all behaved professionally. The Keeper wasn’t rambling like usual?”

            Babette laughed. “Well, I mean he did ramble. But when we were on the job, he was nothing but professional. An exceptional member of the family, I can say.”

            I tried to suppress it, but rage ruptured in my chest. “Alright, Babette. You’re dismissed to spend time with the rest of them.” Babette nodded her thanks, then scurried off. I waited, listening until I heard the group cheer for her arrival in the eating area. Festus and Cicero were the loudest of the lot.

            I sat and simmered, the anger flurrying in my chest and seeping out of my pores. Ever since the clown and the Breton arrived, the whole family had changed. Festus Krex, the uncle of every member of the family, provided undying support to the Old Ways and the Night Mother. This was something he’d always done, but since the Night Mother arrived to my sanctuary, Krex had turned all of his attention to Arabella, the supposed Listener. Veezara was with Arabella and Cicero from the moment they arrived. Nazir didn’t care much for the dancing and singing that came with Cicero’s presence, but he had no problem with Arabella. Babette, the most loyal follower I’ve ever had, was now so involved in these people, it made my skin crawl.

The reason I sent her was not because she could see well in the dark. Ha, as if I were so simple. I wanted her to report back with her distaste for the group. It’s the same reason I decided Arabella should deliver all of the kills. Not because I thought it was a high honor the Night Mother relayed her information to the girl, but because I wanted the family to hate her.

            The Keeper and the Breton were systematically taking over the family. The only people I had left to trust were Gabriella and Arnbjorn, and I wasn’t sure that I liked that. I’d always had a soft spot for misfits. Cicero was the lost lamb of Sithis, wandering around with the Night Mother, as crazy as the day is long. Regardless, in his letters he was depicted a loyal follower, and we were the last place he could go.

            Arabella was a different story. She just stumbled upon the Brotherhood, and I invited her in. If I’d known her presence would dismiss my authority, that she would be seen as a figure head amongst a family she’d just been invited into, I would have gotten rid of her in the shack all those months ago.

            Something would have to be done. Someone would have to remind the lot of them that I was the leader of this sanctuary. Not the Listener. Not the Night Mother.

            I walked down to the loud group in the eating area. The bunch were huddled around the table in the center of the room, where Babette and Cicero were reenacting Vici’s death. Babette was playing Vittoria, and Cicero was apparently the gargoyle. Arabella was pretending to push Cicero off the table and onto Babette, who pretended to be squished. Then she and Cicero ran around yelling “Stormcloaks! Stormcloaks!” Festus and Veezara were laughing hysterically. Nazir had a huge smile on his face, not even angry about Cicero standing on his table. My husband and Gabriella were wrapped up in the excitement too. I swear I almost saw a smile on Arnbjorn’s face.

            “Dear family, listen to me.” I raised my voice over the banter, and everyone fell silent. “I have thought long and hard about the next target from our newest friend Motierre. Our next target is Gaius Maro, son of Commander Maro. He will be making trips to every major city in Skyrim to verify security. Motierre has requested he be killed, and an incriminating letter be planted on his body, somewhere it will be found.” Arabella’s brow furrowed.

            “What is the letter for?” she asked

            “The letter will tell of his plot to assassinate the Emperor. The Emperor will feel safe that his attacker has been eliminated, but he’ll be vulnerable knowing that there has been a rupture from within his troops. Eventually, the fear will make him weak enough to take down easily.” Arabella nodded, as did most of the rest of the group. “I’ve decided to send Arabella and Gabriella only. A lot of sneaking is required for this trip, so a large group would be impractical.” Arabella and Gabriella exchanged a look of understanding.

            “Maro will be at Dragonbridge to depart for his trip in a few days. You two should get ready to go.” The women nodded and headed up the stairs leading to the sleeping quarters. The group went back to laughing and talking, with the exception of Cicero, who headed for the exit.

            “Where ya headed boy? We were having fun.” Festus called towards him.

            The clown waved his hand in dismissal. “Oh, Cicero just has to take care of some quick errands, dear wizard. He will return shortly.”

            The group let out a chorus of ‘awe’s and ‘hurry back’s. I made my way around the corner, through the alchemy lab, and out into the main room. I returned to my study, leaning against the wall near the stairs. Surely, Gabriella could put an end to my suspicions. Her loyalty to me would set things straight.

            And if not, there had to be another way.


	15. The Dark Elf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gabriella and Arabella go out on contract together, and Gabriella takes the opportunity to get to know a bit more about the Listener.
> 
> POV: Gabriella

            Arabella and I had just left to begin our mission. She had been quiet for the beginning of the trip, staring out at the road ahead of us, enjoying the breeze that blew her hair around her face.

            Before we could even leave, Arabella nodded her goodbye to the family, as did I. On our way out, in the main room, Cicero had run out of his chambers and handed Arabella a satchel that clanked as he moved. Arabella had taken it, both of us equally confused.

            _“Cicero put this together for the two assassins. Gabriella probably doesn’t know that Arabella gets sick easily in the open air. She sleeps in the wet grass like a dummy and gets a cold.”_ Arabella cocked her head to the side, daring him to keep talking. _“In case either of you get sick or slashed, the red potions are for healing and the small vials are for curing disease. There are enough for the both of you.”_ How curious. Cicero packing for Arabella wasn’t very surprising, but for me as well? Odd.

            I thanked him anyway, as did Arabella, and then we had left quietly, taking the same wagon that they had used for their previous trip. I was driving, and Arabella was moving the satchel to the back of the cart.

            “He’s always making these potions.” she mumbled from where she leaned over the bench. “When Veezara and I went to Volunruud, he forced Veezara to make me take a potion every four hours.”

            I felt my brow furrow in confusion. “Why would they make you take them?”

            “Oh, I had fallen asleep outside. ‘Like a dummy’, apparently.” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I’d gotten a cold and they were treating me like a child.”

            I scoffed at the idea. “And you just let them? Divines know I wouldn’t have let them.”

            Arabella laughed. “Oh trust me, I concur with you on that. I don’t like people thinking I’m weak or incapable, but it makes Cicero feel secure. As if it’s definitive: I _will_ come back if I take the damned potions. And Veezara likes to feel like he has control over things, even if it’s something small, like making sure I take some potions.” She raised an eyebrow to me, a mischievous smirk dominating the lower half of her face. “I don’t recommend you take them unless you need them though. Cicero’s potions are effective, but they taste absolutely awful.”

            I couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sure they’re not that bad.” I said to her.

            She snorted at that, then reached back into the satchel and pulled out a vial of cure disease. She uncorked it and held it under my nose. I sniffed, and by Sithis, she wasn’t lying. The liquid smelt of moldy bread and farm animals. I jerked my head back, trying to distance myself from the foul odor.

            I covered my nose and mouth with the back of my hand. “Gods, you actually drank this dreadful mess?”

            Arabella laughed wildly. “Oh yes, Veezara made me! I fought him on it, but he kept saying it was for poor Cicero who would have loved to come on the trip. Then I felt bad and had to drink them.” She corked the bottle and tossed it into the back of the wagon. “They work, but they’re horrible.”

            “Well, I suppose if you hadn’t slept outside, they wouldn’t have bothered you about it.” I gave her a playfully snobby look.

            “I suppose so, sister. I can’t help it. Falling asleep in my bed is particularly difficult for me.”

            “Uncomfortable?”

            “No, no. Not that at all.” She adjusted her legs in the wagon, so one was folded underneath her. “Before Astrid found me, I was a wanderer of sorts. I slept outside most nights, and now I can’t fall asleep in a bed no matter how hard I try.” She laughed. “I have to be truly exhausted to sleep in a box with a blanket.”

            “Can I inquire something of you?” She nodded, smiling. “How did you manage to steal a contract from us?” I had been wondering about her chance encounter with Astrid for a while. I had asked Astrid on our trip to Riften, but all she told me was of how she heard about the woman’s death and followed Arabella back to Whiterun.

            Her face fell a little. “Well, I was in Windhelm, looking for work. I usually went there to use their forge.”

            I nodded. “Veezara mentioned you worked for a blacksmith.”

            Arabella exhaled a bit louder than normal, as close to a laugh as she could muster. “Well, I suppose I worked for him, but not for coin. Balimund found me as a beggar and offered me food and shelter in exchange for work.” I looked at her, absolutely puzzled. She must have understood my expression. “I have no family. I grew up in Honorhall Orphanage. That’s why I did the deed for the boy, Aventus Aretino. He was so sad, and I knew how the headmistresses in the orphanage treated the children.”

            I thought about that for a moment. “Was Grelod your headmistress?”

            “No, I hadn’t been to the orphanage in nearly seven years before that night. I never knew the woman.” She paused a moment. “I didn’t go there with the intention of killing her. I wanted to talk some sense into her, I think. Maybe even tell the kids that the headmistresses weren’t all bad, and a new one would come soon. Grelod mumbled some horrible things about the children in her sleep, and my blade was faster than my thoughts.” She shook her head, thinking back on the night in her memories. “I don’t regret it at all, and I don’t want anyone to think that of me. Killing Grelod the Kind was the best decision I’ve ever made, regardless of whether or not it was a conscious decision.”

            The story was vastly different from the tale Astrid had spun for me. “I’ll admit to you, Arabella, Astrid and I believed you to be from wealth.”

            Arabella laughed loudly again. “Oh yes, sister. Drowning in piles of gold, I am.”

            I spent another moment in thought. “I also feel obligated to tell you that we didn’t believe you at first, about being the Listener.” I felt horrible telling her, but she was a kind girl. I would have felt worse keeping it to myself. “Astrid and I, we’ve just become so accustomed to the New Ways. The Night Mother’s days seem so long ago. I believe now, though, if that’s any consolation.”

She turned to look at me. “I understand, Gabriella. I suspected most of the family didn’t believe.” She dropped her eyes for a moment, collecting her thoughts, it seemed. She changed the subject when her gaze returned to me. “You and Festus seem very close. Why is that?”

            I hadn’t been asked about myself in a very long time. “Well, we’re both assassins of magic rather than blade. We’ve bonded over the years sharing spells and teaching each other conjuration magic.”

            Her eyes lit up, gray pools of enthusiasm boring into me. “Maybe you could show me, if it isn’t at all inconvenient. I’m pretty good with restoration, but my conjuration could use some work. I’m a poor Breton, I must admit.” She smiled playfully. “What else can you tell me about yourself?”

            I snorted at that, taken aback by the sudden intrigue in my personality. “What a curious question. Well, I enjoy moonlit nights, taking long walks on the beach, unicorns, and knitting. In fact, I once took a seaside stroll on a moonlit night, and discovered a unicorn...which I proceeded to stab in the throat with a crochet needle. I am a woman of refined, yet simple tastes.” I winked at her, and she laughed wickedly. Perhaps I was very wrong about this girl. She wasn’t a sulking lump as I had thought. She had some humor, and dry humor was in fact my favorite.

            Arabella nodded, humor twinkling in her eyes. “Refined indeed, sister. Refined indeed.”

 

            We found ourselves in Dragonbridge a few days later. We had listened from the shadows as Gaius Maro said his goodbyes to his father and lover, a grand display of affection and emotion that made both of us gag. Then, we had watched him hoist a satchel over his shoulder, slinking down the path away from Dragonbridge.

We clung to the darkness, creeping behind him for a few miles. Once the town was no longer in sight, Arabella raised a dagger and aimed from a crouch in the dark. I watched as she exhaled slowly, the tip of the sharp metal between her thumb and index finger and the handle pointing straight up.

The blade flew from Arabella’s hand, hitting Maro in the neck. Arabella and I crouched even lower, watching as Maro’s hand shot up to the sharp pain in his neck, blood trickling down his torso. He wobbled for a moment, then fell to the ground. He writhed on the pathway as we approached him.

Arabella and I simply stared down at him, watching the life drain from his eyes and blood sputtered from his mouth as he tried to form a cry for help. The darkness consumed him before and help could come, or even know it was needed, for that matter. Once he was gone, I pulled the folded letter from my satchel, placing it beneath his chestplate.

            When we returned home, Astrid asked many questions about the trip and Arabella’s skill. I tried to tell her that we had been wrong about the girl, and that she was actually rather intriguing, but Astrid didn’t want to hear it. No matter what I said to praise the girl, to try to change Astrid’s mind, she didn’t waver, her jaw set and her eyes distant. I had seen that look before. Astrid was displeased that I was fond of her, and I couldn’t take it back now.

            I wish I had lied. I wish I had lied, to the Void and back.


	16. The Uncle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chaos erupts in the sanctuary, sending two brothers flying into the woods and one severely injured.
> 
> POV: Festus Krex

            It was late morning, that day. Warmer than usual, but most everything was calm. Most of us were gathered in the eating area, listening to the tale of Gaius Maro’s demise. It was a nice change from hearing about Babette’s trip to Solitude. She’d had the time of her life, and I wasn’t gonna lie, I loved hearing the tale, butit was getting old.

Cicero was very fascinating and everything, but Arabella was one of the greatest people we’d ever had in this sanctuary. She was so eager to learn about everything and share any knowledge she could to reciprocate. She was really the only person who would listen to all of my tales, and never complain a bit. She actually asked me to tell them again, and hung on my every word like they would be the last she ever heard. Arabella had an eagerness I hadn’t seen in decades, and I had unwavering belief that she could save our sanctuary.

            She was sleeping then, exhausted from their trip. Gabriella had said the poor girl didn’t sleep the whole trip. They had returned hours before, and after greeting me and Cicero and Veezara, and giving Babette a pat on the head, she went to her bed and hadn’t roused since.

            Arnbjorn was working his tools in the main room, and Veezara and Cicero were practicing on the mannequins by the forge. We were chatting quietly about recent days, and playfully teasing Nazir about how long the meal was taking.

            “Nazir, I swear by Sithis himself, if I don’t get some food in my belly soon, I might have to kill you to occupy myself.” I said to him.

            The Redguard scoffed. “You’ll be belly up before you could even reach me, old man.” Babette snickered at his sarcastic retort. “Besides, if I’m dead, who will feed you? Gods know you all can’t manage for yourselves.”

            Babette and Gabriella laughed as I huffed and puffed about Nazir’s eloquent comeback. Gabriella raised her hand to Nazir, signaling for him to stop. “Leave the old man alone, Nazir.”

That’s when we heard the screaming, disrupting our moments of hilarity. We all exchanged looks, then jumped to our feet and moved quickly to the main room. The scene we walked in on was horrific.

Cicero was holding his blade to Veezara’s left side, and he cried out, but kept his eyes locked on Cicero. With one hand at his side, holding the blade where it was to refrain the jester from stabbing him repeatedly, he raised his other hand to Cicero’s shoulder.

            “Brother, this isn’t you.” Veezara was trying to talk him down instead of protect himself. “Cicero, it’s me.” Astrid was on the ground behind him, her eyes full of terror. I couldn’t see Cicero’s face, but I saw the look on Veezara’s as he relaxed, then the pain set in.

            Behind them, Arnbjorn was shaking. Seeing his wife being attacked set him off. A low growl built in his burly chest, his bones popping and breaking as they expanded. He doubled over, fur spouting from his flesh. His face stretched into a snout, and he nearly tripled in his already very large size. Cicero had taken off running, and Arnbjorn was quick to follow, leaving Veezara to crumple onto the ground in their wake.

            Curled into a ball and bleeding profusely, Veezara let out a moan that would make tears spring to your eyes. Babette and Gabriella had run up to him, and were trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was much too deep. Blood was seeping through their fingers, and Gabriella’s training was mainly conjuration and destruction. I could try, but I had never been any good at it. We had no means to heal him.

            With a gasp, Veezara spoke in a raspy voice. “Arabella. Someone find Arabella. Please.” Veezara was shaking on the ground, blood dribbling from his lips. Cicero must have hit something major with that blade.

            I don’t think I’ve ever run faster in my life. I was up the stairs, down the hall, and at Arabella’s bedside in a few seconds. I grabbed her shoulders and began to shake her, desperate to wake her.

            “Arabella. Wake up, girl.” Her eyes fluttered after a second, and before she could process that it was me, she began to fight. “No, no. Stop that. We need you. Veezara needs you.” The man’s name brought her back from sleep, and she rose from the bed. She stared at me wildly, trying to blink away her slumber.

            “Where is he?” she asked. I grabbed her hand and pulled her with me back through the hall and down the stairs. Once she saw Veezara on the ground, she flung herself over him.

            “What type of wound?” She asked, missing no time. She pulled Gabriella and Babette’s hands away, looking at the damage.

            “Stab. Dagger. Very forceful.” Babette told the girl, her voice shaking from the intensity of the situation.

            Arabella nodded and pressed her hand to the wound. Her hands began to glow as she closed her eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling as the light in her palms became brighter. Veezara screamed as his damaged organs were being repaired, the glowing light forming inside his body now. His cries became quieter as the light wrapped around his scaly skin, pulling it closed. Arabella’s hands were drenched in blood, but Veezara relaxed his body, seemingly no longer in pain.

            “Any other wounds?” Arabella asked Veezara first. When he didn’t respond she looked around the room. Astrid had scraped her hands when she fell backwards, but she didn’t say anything about it. Arabella noticed anyway, and waved her hand over Astrid’s general direction. Astrid’s hands glowed a moment, then the light disappeared with the scrapes on her palms.

            “What the hell is going on?” The Listener’s eyes were wild. The rest of us were silent, but we stared at Astrid. Her face was drained of color, and she stood slowly.

            “Damn it, this never should have happened. We knew better. We knew better, axnd still, we let our guards down.” She turned to Veezara. “Are you alright, brother?”

            “The jester’s cut feels as bad as it looks, I’m afraid.” Veezara was trying to stand now, and Gabriella and I helped him to his feet.

            “The pain should stop soon, Veezara.” Arabella said to him, and he nodded his thanks. Then her head snapped back. “Did you say jester?”

            Astrid was on her feet now. “The fool went absolutely berserk! He wounded Veezara, tried to kill me, and then he fled. I knew that lunatic couldn’t be trusted.”

            “It’s true, I’m afraid.” I said to Arabella, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Cicero was like a little whirlwind.”

            “And the ranting and raving. About the Night Mother, and how she was the true leader of the Dark Brotherhood, and how I was just a pretender.” Astrid was speaking so quickly it was hard to understand her.

            “This was Cicero?” She wasn’t speaking to Astrid, she was speaking to Veezara. The Argonian nodded. Arabella’s face flushed, and her eyes grew distant.

            “Look, we’ve got to deal with this situation.” Astrid said to her. “You’ve got to deal with this situation.”

            “What do you want me to do?” Arabella’s voice was quiet.

            “I want you to find that miserable little fool and end his life. But first, find my husband…make sure he’s alright. After the attack, Arnbjorn flew into a rage. He chased Cicero out of here.” Arabella’s face fell even lower than it was. “Search his room, see if you can find any information on where he could have gone.”

            Arabella nodded, and stole away slowly. Veezara was standing now, his face creased with worry. I could tell he didn’t want Cicero to die.

            Gabriella was the first to speak, wrapping her arm around Veezara to support him. “Astrid, Arabella is close with Cicero.” She didn’t say anything else. We knew what she meant.

            “I understand that, but my husband may be hurt as bad as Veezara was. None of us know how to heal him.”

            “Maybe someone should go with her. I can accompany her.” Veezara seemed determined, but unsteady.

            “No, you need to rest. You were just on the edge of death.” Astrid’s brow was furrowed in thought.

            “I can go with the girl.” I said. “I can make sure the job is done and help bring Arnbjorn back.”

            Arabella reappeared then. “Thank you, Festus, but I would prefer to travel alone.” She stepped up to Astrid. “I believe Cicero may have gone to Dawnstar. There’s an old sanctuary there.”

            Astrid seemed so worried. “Arabella, I don’t know what you’ll walk in on.”

            “I serve this sanctuary, Astrid. You are the leader of the sanctuary, and your word is law.” The girl looked around at us, then down at her feet. “I’ll do the deed, and bring your husband home.”

            Astrid nodded to her. She had a small satchel on her hip, and she reached into it and pulled out some potions. She handed them to Veezara, and the look on his face was almost heartbreaking. He nodded, understanding whatever silent message she’d given him. Arabella left then, and not another word escaping her as she entered the unknown night.


	17. The Werewolf

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arnbjorn is determined to make Cicero pay for his attack, but he can't seem to get through the Black Door.
> 
> POV: Arnbjorn

            The worst part of being a werewolf is the way your mind blurs. Nothing else around you has shape or sound or scent. Your instincts block everything out but the kill.

            The world around me was green, a blur of trees and branches and trunks flying by me. I felt like I was standing still and being propelled through the woods toward the clown.

            He was faster than I thought he would be. I honestly thought I would catch him outside of Falkreath, tear him to bits, rip the flesh from his bones and bring his head to my wife. But the little whelp had me on a grand chase. I was following his scent for the most part, but I caught a glimpse of him every once in a while, but he was jumping into the river and hiding in random places to throw me off his tracks.

            We had run for hours, full speed. I thought he’d get tired and slow down, but he never did. Adrenaline pumping in his veins, and beastblood pumping through mine, we didn’t slow all the way to Dawnstar.

            Outside the black door of some abandoned sanctuary, that’s where he had led me. He finally slowed, thinking he had lost me. I pounced on him, sinking me teeth into his side. Before I could get too deep, he was stabbing me profusely in the stomach. I screamed and rolled off of him, feeling my bones shrink down to human size in my moments of pain and vulnerability. The clown was up, and crawling towards the door. Before I could roll over to catch him, he was inside, the door closed behind him.

            I gripped my punctured abdomen and hunched over as I limped to the door. I waited a moment for the question.

            _“What is life’s greatest illusion?”_ What? I didn’t know. I pounded on the door until I felt my fists bleed. Then I yelled, straining my abdomen. I doubled over in pain, and gave up.

            I staggered toward Dawnstar, but I only got a few steps before I fell over. I sat in the snow, the cold making my legs go numb.

            The man tried to kill my wife. I could transform into a giant wolf but I couldn’t think of a passphrase to get into the sanctuary where he was hiding from me.

            Close to an hour passed, and I sat there clutching my stomach. I thought about crawling to Dawnstar, trying to find a doctor, but there was no chance I would make it that far. Was this how I was going to die? I was still bleeding.

            It was about that time that Arabella showed up. She was riding Astrid’s horse, Shadowmere, and wearing no armor. Her face was covered by a cowl, which she removed as she dismounted.

She looked down at me, an expression somewhere between disgust and concern covering her face. “Ew. Cover yourself, Arnbjorn.” She reached into her satchel and tossed a pair of pants at me. Oh, right. Wolf stuff.

            “Should have figured Astrid would send you, tidbit.” I said, as I pulled the clothing on. I’d been calling her that for weeks.

She cracked a smile at the nickname, but she was still concerned. “You’re hurt.” No shit.

            “What gave it away?” I laughed at my own sarcasm, only making the pain worse. “Yeah, gotta admit that little jester is good with that butter knife. But don’t worry, I gave as good as I got.”

            She kneeled beside me, moving my hands to look at the stab wounds beneath them. She signaled for me to lay back, and she placed her hands over my stomach. They began to glow, and a brutal pain shot through my gut as my organs moved back into place. I gritted my teeth, trying not to holler for her to stop. Once I felt my skin pull together and my pain subside, she removed her hands. I sat up.

            “Where is Cicero now?” Her voice was emotionless.

            “In there. Through the door. Some old sanctuary by the looks of it. I would have followed him, but I don’t know the phrase.”

            She nodded. “I know the phrase. I’ll take care of Cicero—you go home.”

            “Alright, you convinced me. Doubt I’d be much good to ya anyway. The little fop cut me deep. I don’t know how you fixed it so fast.” I looked at her, her face pale with contemplation. “But I slashed him pretty good. Got a few swipes with my claws and bit him. Not very hard, but I think I severed an artery. Don’t know what you’ll find in there, but you can probably just follow the blood.”

            “Take Shadowmere and go back to Falkreath. Astrid is waiting for you.” I nodded, and she waved a hand, summoning a spectral assassin. It was Lucien Lachance, an honorable member of the Brotherhood before us.

            As I mounted Shadowmere, she and Lucien headed for the door.

 “Hey, tidbit!” I called to the girl. She turned to look at me. “Kill well and often.” She nodded as she pushed the door open, and entered the darkness with Lucien Lachance on her flank.


	18. The Attacker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero is reeling from what's just happened. Arabella and Lucien make their way into the sanctuary, and Cicero must face that this could be his last day.
> 
> POV: Cicero

            Cicero thought he was going to die here, in the dark, alone. He had managed to start a fire, trying to gain some warmth and use the flames to cauterize my wounds. It was small fire, but Cicero couldn’t find anything to heat before he fell to the ground. I saw my blood pooling around me.

            The laughter was gone while I fled to Dawnstar, not knowing where else to go. It was back now, filling my head and consuming Cicero’s thoughts.

            _You tried to kill the lizard. The lizard is your friend, and you tried to kill him in front of the sanctuary._

            “No! No, Cicero would never hurt Veezara. Did—Did I hurt Veezara?”

_You killed him! Just like you killed Rasha! Lowly, filthy Cicero!_

            I slammed my fists against the sides of my head. “Shut up! Shut up! You’re not real!”

            _Another leader, another important person in Mother’s eyes. You attacked a sister. Cicero violated a tenant!_

            “Get out of my head! She’s a pretender! A faker!” I screamed, straining my wounded abdomen. I clutched at my torso, and the laughter echoed in my skull, making fun of my pain.

            That’s when I heard a woman’s scream. Not a scream of terror, oh no. Cicero heard a voice clear as day, taking down the guardians and other guests that inhabited the sanctuary. He heard a man’s voice too, closer than he imagined.

            “Behind you, my Listener.” I heard a blade swipe, as well as healing magic twinkling in the halls.

            “Listener! Is that you? Oh I knew you’d come! Send the best to defeat the best.” I laughed. “Astrid knew her stupid wolf couldn’t slay sly Cicero.”

            There was more grunting and slashing before her response came. “Tell me where you are, Cicero.” Her voice didn’t sound soft, as it usually did. She sounded angry, preoccupied with her battle.

            “Oh this isn’t at all what Mother would want. You kill the Keeper or I kill the Listener? Now that’s madness!” I cackled, the thought of Arabella’s dead body making me sick to my stomach.

            Arabella mumbled something I couldn’t hear. They were probably fighting that troll by now. I heard the scuffle, and the kicking up of snow. Cicero should have warned her about it, but if he was going to die by her hand anyway, why make it easier for her? I could admit to myself that there was something more to my friendship with this girl. She wasn’t just the Listener. She was more to me than that.

            Was this really what it would come to? I finally find sanctuary, find family after all of those years. Poor Cicero sees two sanctuaries fall, and he stabs one of his favorite siblings. Now his closest companion, Mother’s Listener, sweet Arabella would kill him.

            Arabella screamed then. “Lucien, watch it!”

            “Sorry, Listener. I’m out of practice.” Who is Lucien? Lucien Lachance? Oh what fun!

            There was a loud thud, signaling that the troll had fallen, and they were close. Cicero heard the gagging of a few more spectral guardians, then footsteps approaching the door hiding poor Cicero. I heard them pause outside the door.

            The sweet Listener’s voice soothed his aching temple. “I can handle this part, Lucien. Thank you for your help.”

            “Of course, Listener. I’ll return to the Void and be ready for your next call.” There was a momentary pause. “Listener, you may kill Cicero if you so desire, but it would cause a great disturbance in the Void. The Dread Father does not wish this.”

            The Listener was silent for a moment. “I’ll take that into great consideration, Lucien. I’ll summon you again shortly.”

            “Yes, my Listener.” There was a quiet swoosh before the door opened.      

            Arabella was wearing her mourner’s attire, but her usually straight hair was an unruly mess. A dagger was held in her right hand, flames spouting from her left. Even with the blood of the troll spattered across her face, she was lovely.

            “So we’ve reached the grand finale, Listener.” I laughed, muffled slightly as my tongue became heavy. “Was that Lucien Lachance I heard? A celebrity among us, really.”

            “It was Lucien, yes. I suppose you heard what he said outside.”

            My heart wrenched. Sithis had been speaking of me. “Yes, Cicero heard. But the choice is yours, Listener. I’ve got no fight left. Sithis will judge us both in the end.” She walked toward me quickly. I shut my eyes, waiting for the blow.

            I heard her blade clank as it hit the floor. I opened my eyes to look at her. She stood over me with her hands on her hips.

            “You really think I would kill you?” She shook her head. “All that bonding gone to waste.” She knelt over me and moved my hands away from my wounds very quickly, as if she’d been doing it all day. “It’s really bad. Brace yourself. This is going to hurt a lot.”

            Her hands turned yellow, a soft glow emitting from them. She pressed them to my side where the sheepdog bit me, and I felt ribs crack back into place and arteries clot then heal. I groaned in pain, suppressing the screams that formed beneath poor Cicero’s lips. Then skin around the wound healed, and the pain subsided momentarily. Her hands moved to my chest then, to the claw marks the dog sheathed. The pain wasn’t as bad this time, but it was still pain. I grunted as I was healed.

            I looked up at the Listener, searching her gray eyes for the answers I was seeking. I was still smiling like a madman. “Arabella did not kill Cicero.”

            “No, I didn’t.” She pulled her hands away, finished with her healing.

            “Astrid will be very upset with the Listener.”

            The Listener shook her head. “She doesn’t have to know. I’ll lie. I’ll tell her you died by my hand. Lucien will vouch for me.”

            I laughed softly, wincing at the tenderness in my ribs. “Tell her you strangled me with my own intestines?”

            The Listener exhaled sharply, expressing that she found it funny too. “Oh, that’s very believable.”

            I was silent a moment. “Cicero is so used to betrayal. Why? Why did the Listener spare poor Cicero instead of honoring Veezara and Astrid?”

            “Veezara knows you didn’t mean to hurt him. He didn’t say it, but I saw it. When Astrid sent me to kill you, his face was so sad. It was like Astrid stabbed him.” She looked at me, leaning back against the wall near the fire. “What happened, Cicero? Talk to me.”

            I felt tears well up in my eyes. “You should have heard what she said, Arabella. What she said about me. About you. About the Night Mother.” I felt myself crying. I hadn’t cried in years. “What’s a fool to do when his mother is insulted?”

            “So you tried to kill her?” The Listener’s brow was furrowed, trying to figure out what to say to calm me down. I could feel the laughter coming back.

            “Yes. And I would do it again.” I had pulled myself up to lean against the wall opposite to her. I tried to stop crying, but it was all coming very fast now. Oh, no. Wait. “Mother. Oh Mother.”

            “Yeah. Mother. You can’t return the sanctuary, Cicero. What are we going to do?” The Listener looked as if she may cry now. We were silent for a few minutes, watching each other.

I felt so much more like myself when I was with the Listener. The laughter in my head, the memories from Bruma and Cheydinhal, the screams of Rasha and the blows from Garnag. All silenced when the Listener was present. How would I remain sane without my newfound family, my dearest friend, not even Mother to keep poor Cicero company?

            Finally, she disrupted the quiet. “You don’t like the silence.”

            I nodded my head, still crying. “Cicero tolerates the silence. He’ll have to get used to it now, he supposes.”

            She tapped my foot with hers, not moving her body at all. “How about Cicero asks the Listener a question, and she answers, then the Listener asks Cicero a question, and he answers.” She smiled playfully. I laughed, intrigued that she could just quote things I had said.

            “Alright, Listener.” I waited for her to ask the first question, but her eyes bore into poor Cicero. She knew I had a question to ask first. “Fine. Why didn’t the Listener kill Cicero?”

            She raised an eye brow at me, her smile fading. “Don’t you recall a promise I made you?”

            “Cicero remembers everything the Listener has ever said. But he still doesn’t understand why she doesn’t kill him. Cicero tried to kill the Pretender.” I looked away. “The Listener serves the Pretender.”

            Arabella kicked my leg until I met her gaze. “I would do anything to protect the Night Mother, to please the Dread Lord, to serve the Brotherhood. But I would never do anything to hurt the Keeper.” Her face was so serious. I’d never seen it like that before. “Why didn’t you tell me about Rasha?”

            I blinked, trying to make sense of the words she had said, but the laughter spoke before I could. _How did the Listener know?_

_Who told her?_

_How could she be so nosy?_

_No one can know about Rasha and Garnag._

_Astrid was right. She wasn’t the Listener. Just another filthy pretender like Rasha! Cicero should be Listener! Not her!_

_There is no Listener! Kill her kill her kill her kill her kill her._

            Arabella’s face was much closer to mine now, her cheeks a shade of reddish-purple. I hadn’t even realized that I had moved when I found that I was on top of her, my hands at her throat, shaking and choking and strangling her. As her eyes began to water, turning red around the gray irises in the center, I felt her hand on my arm, tapping to get my attention but never trying to pull my hands away. She didn't fight, didn't struggle.

            Her eyes were locked on mine, and I felt my brow furrow as I realized I couldn't stop. The laughter echoed in my temple, bouncing off of my brain and stinging the sides of my skull. Arabella wrapped her fingers around my forearm, shaking me gently as she struggled for breath. It was then that I was able to pull myself back to the room, to pull my hands away from her neck, to drag myself away from her.

            She inhaled, loud and sharp, before coughing harshly. Her own hand touched her throat, the soft flesh bruising in the shapes of my gloved fingers. She stayed on the ground for a long time, until her breaths were even and full, then she sat up, using her hands to support her. I just watched as she took air into her lungs, a rhythmic motion of inhale and exhale that confirmed that I hadn't killed her, even though the laughter still screamed for me to hurt her.

_You failed. Weak Cicero can't even kill a little Breton girl._

"I can't do it." I said to the voice. "I can't hurt her. I won't."

             _She didn't even fight! You call yourself an assassin?_

I gripped the sides of my head, pounding against my skull with open palms. "Stop it, stop it, stop it! Stop talking!"

            Slowly, Arabella crawled toward me. She sat before me, her eyes betraying the fear she felt, but she still reached out to me, pulling my hands away from my head and placing them at my sides. She shook her head slowly. "Cicero, I'm sorry."

            Why was she apologizing to me? I'd nearly killed her a moment ago, and she thought it was her fault for asking the question and making me angry. I couldn't control the laughter, I was weak and foolish and my will was so easily manipulated by the voice in my head. I looked at her more closely, the scars on her face and the beauty I saw in her every day rendered unimportant by the kindness she showed me. And I'd tried to kill her. I'd come so close, so dangerously close to destroying something so breakable, and I hated myself for it. I hated myself.

            My face dropped to her shoulder and I sobbed uncontrollably, low cries billowing out of my chest and become loud, unmanageable sobs. She wrapped her arms around me, holding me as I trembled and cursed myself. The Listener’s body, so warm and so fragile, nearly drained of life by Cicero’s hand, and still she held me.

             I gained some control over myself, willing myself to sit up and explain what had happened to her. I pulled away from her, still sitting very close to her, but far enough away to see her face. I ran my fingertips over her face, tracing the contours of her features, the ridge of her nose, the curve of her chin. She wiped tears off of my cheeks and handed me the satchel on her hip. I was confused, but I opened the bag. Inside were all of my journals, and my potions from my room in the sanctuary.

            “I was trying to find the password. I knew this was where you would come, but I needed to know how to get in.” She lowered her eyes. “I didn’t mean to read about Rasha and Garnag, but I did.” When she looked back at me, her face had crumpled in sadness. “Is that what you thought of me when I fell out of the coffin?”

            Guilt ruptured in my chest. That was her question. Not really about Rasha, but about her.

            “Arabella, you said the Binding Words. When Cheydinhal fell, Cicero sat with Mother every day, keeping her coffin clean and protecting her. After about a month, Rasha claimed the Night Mother spoke to him. He made up stories about contracts, but he couldn’t say the Binding Words. They were written in the Keeping Tomes so Cicero could know a real Listener from a fake. Rasha was a Pretender, so Cicero ordered Garnag to kill him.”

            Arabella’s face was still so sad. I ran my hand along her cheek. “Cicero was cautious at first, because of Rasha, but Arabella said the Binding Words. Arabella is the Listener. I’m so sorry I said you weren’t. You are.”

            Her face relaxed a little, but she was still sad. “Astrid doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’m making it up. Gabriella told me.”

            I scooted close enough to her to hold her face between my hands. “Astrid is the Pretender. Sweet Arabella is the Listener.” I felt her lean her face against my right hand.

            “The Night Mother confirms that Arabella is the Listener.” A voice said behind us. I whirled my head around to see a glowing, blue form stood at the opposite end of the room, blade drawn.

            “Thank you, Lucien.” I looked back at Arabella. I removed my hands from her face, wildly confused. “He came back when you started to scream that you were going to kill me.” She looked over to Lucien. “We’re fine, Lucien. Thank you.”

            “I’ll return to the Void, waiting for your call.” He disappeared with a swishing sound. I turned back to Arabella.

            _Mother says she is the Listener. You tried to kill the Listener._ “Oh, Mother, forgive me. I tried to kill the Listener. Gods, I almost killed the Listener.” I ran my shaking hands over her shoulders and up to her face again, trying to think of a way to make her see I wasn’t going to hurt her.

            She put her hand on my cheek, ignoring my panic. “Cicero, we have to talk about what happens now. You can’t return to Falkreath.”

            I thought for a moment, leaning away from her as I realized what I had done. “No, Cicero can’t return to Falkreath. He’ll never see Mother again.” Overwhelmed with emotion, I touched her cheek. “I’ll never see you again.”

            The Listener blinked twice, trying to process my words. “She will understand. Sithis does not want you dead.”

            “What will Cicero do?”

            “You’ll stay here. Only you and I know the passphrase to the sanctuary. No one will find you here.” She pulled her face away and looked up at me. “You’ll busy yourself making potions, writing in your journals, restoring this sanctuary as your home. Maybe you’ll travel to Solitude or Markarth or Cyrodiil, but you’ll never return to Falkreath. You can’t.”

            I was silent a moment. “Lucien will lie for you? Make Astrid believe?”

            “I think he will, yes.” Arabella sat quietly for a moment, smoothing my hair and pushing it away from my face. Finally, she stood, extending her hand to pull me from the ground. My legs were unsteady, still weak from running for so long, but I stood nonetheless. We kept our hands together for a moment, then we separated.

            “I’ll visit when I can. I don’t know when.” She hugged me tightly, and I clung to her, breathing deeply as I tried to make the embrace last as long as I could. “If you leave, please leave a way for me to know where you’ve gone. I can’t lose anyone else. I won’t survive it.”

            I thought for a moment, long and hard. The laughter was gone, the voices were cleared, my thoughts were my own. I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t let her leave. I needed her to stay with me, needed to keep her within my reach. I traced the bruises I'd left on her throat, placing my fingers over the marks and seeing that they were a perfect match.

            And then, without thinking, I pulled her face to mine, pressing my lips against hers as gently as I could manage. She stared at me with wildly confused eyes, but after a moment, she relaxed, her eyes fluttering closed as we kissed again.

            After a moment, we separated from the sudden moment of affection. She stared up at me, her eyes confused and still so happy. I pressed my forehead against hers and whispered to her. “Please protect yourself, Arabella. Mother needs you. _I_ need you.” She nodded to me, but she said nothing else as she left the room. I followed behind her quietly as she left the sanctuary. The last thing I saw of the Listener was as she looked over her shoulder before the black door closed behind her.

            I understood then. Everything made sense. Cicero didn’t need to be the Listener. Cicero just needed the Listener.


	19. The Attacked

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veezara waits for Arabella to recover from the loss of Cicero, but it's obvious something else has happened, and he's determined to find out what.
> 
> POV: Veezara

            Arnbjorn had told us what he experienced. Arabella arrived to help him. He was going to help, but she healed him and insisted he go home. She had a spectral assassin with her, but she was otherwise alone. Arnbjorn had returned a day ago, alone. Arabella was still out in the hills of Skyrim.

            I felt fine now, though nobody believed me. Cicero’s stab had been deep and damaging, but Arabella was an expert. The only pain I felt now was in my heart, worry for Arabella and concern for her sanity. She wouldn’t kill Cicero, I knew that, but what would this do to her? Would she return to Falkreath at all? Would she stay with Cicero?

           We were all sitting and standing collectively in the study when she came through the door, her dark cowl covering her head and shadowing her face. She was caked in dirt and her hair was tangled profusely. Her hands were covered in blood, as well as a bit splattered across her face. Her eyes were blank, emotionless.

            Astrid wasted no time. “Arabella, are you alright?” The girl just nodded, her eyes wandering the room. They were on the verge of tears. Her gaze rested on me, and silently, her cheeks streaked with silent sadness.

            “What of Cicero?” I asked, feeling Babette’s supportive hand on my shoulder scales.

            Arabella was quiet for a moment before she looked at Astrid. “The deed is done. Cicero is dead.” Her face flinched at the word, but her eyes looked like she had seen death. We were all silent, waiting for Astrid to say something. When nothing was spoken, Arabella added “I brought evidence.” She stepped to the side to make room for a ghostly figure to walk past her and into the study. The apparition’s face looked familiar.

            Astrid’s head cocked to the side. “Lucien Lachance.” Ah yes, I had heard of him.

            “Astrid, I accompanied the Listener on her journey through the Dawnstar sanctuary. Cicero now stands with me in the Void.” That was enough for Astrid.

            “Thank you, Lucien.” The figure nodded and turned to Arabella, who also nodded, signaling him to leave. He disappeared immediately.

            “You’ve honored your sanctuary, Arabella. Thank you.” Astrid placed her hand on Arabella’s shoulder, her other hand entwined with Arnbjorn’s. “And thank you for healing my husband.” Arabella nodded softly before moving away from Astrid’s touch. Arnbjorn grabbed her arm as she past, squeezing gently to give his silent thanks. Arnbjorn was a man of very few words, and “Thank You” were the fewest of all. Arabella headed toward the main room silently.

            “Arabella?” Astrid added. The girl turned her head, but not her body. “I was thinking, since you’re the Listener, maybe you should have your own room. You could take Cicero’s.” Arabella’s shoulder were stiff, and I couldn’t even tell if she was breathing.

            “Thank you, Astrid.” She said, still expressing no emotion. With that, she stalked away to the sleeping area, leaving us to revel in the information she brought to us from Dawnstar.

 

 

            Hours passed, leaving Babette and me as the only ones awake. We were gathering Arabella’s belongings from her bed in the communal sleeping area. She had gone to Cicero’s room when she left the study, and she hadn’t come out. I figured it was time to go check on her.

            Arabella didn’t have many things; a few books, a few outfits, and few personal belongings in her chest at the end of her bed. Babette and I carried them in one trip, staying quiet, trying not to wake anyone. We made our way down the hall, then turned into the smaller hallway leading to Cicero’s—no—Arabella’s room.

            The room was exactly as Cicero had left it. His belongings scattered about the shelves, sweet rolls and carrots cluttering the tables, alchemic ingredients on his side table. Arabella was curled up in his bed, on top of the covers, facing the wall. She wasn’t asleep, just staring. Lucien Lachance was sitting at the table, but when he saw us, he stood.

            “I’ll return to the Void now, my Listener.”

            “Thank you, Lucien.” She mumbled. Just as before, Lucien vanished. Without turning away from the wall, Arabella spoke. “Hello, Veezara and Babette. How can I be of service this evening?” Her voice was dry and full of sarcasm, but not playful as it usually was.

            “We brought your things, sister.” Babette had moved the contents of the table to the side to set down Arabella’s books and soul gems. I set her clothes on top of them.

            “Thank you.” She said nothing else, still facing the wall.

            I turned to Babette, whose brow was furrowed in worry. “Could you give us a few minutes to talk, little sister?” The vampire nodded, bowing her head and leaving the room.

            Once I heard her door close across the hall, I pulled a chair over to Arabella’s bedside and sat in it backwards. I rested my arms on the back of the chair, and waited for her to speak. She said nothing for a long time. Then she let out a long sigh and rolled over towards me.

            “What?” She asked. She hadn’t washed at all since she’d been back. There was still blood on her face.

            “Are you going to talk to me?” I asked

            Arabella glared at me, her eyes challenging me to pry answers from her. “That all depends on what you want me to say.”

            I raised a brow. “Well, why haven’t you washed? You’re covered in blood and rolling around in your bed.”

            “It’s not my bed. It’s Cicero’s.”

            “Then you’re covered in blood and rolling around in Cicero’s bed.”

            She blinked, trying to recover from my blunt words. “I’m tired.”

            “You weren’t sleeping.”

            She rolled her eyes at me. “I’m a different kind of tired, Veezara.”

            “Are you going to make this difficult?” I lowered my brow in aggravation, waiting for her to respond. She sat up in bed, leaning against the wall behind her. Her dark cowl still on her head and shadowing her face, it was difficult to read her expressions.

            “Do you want me to tell you about how Cicero begged for his life? How I attacked him even though he couldn’t fight back? How Lucien helped, how we watch the blood run from the jester’s veins like a stuck pig?” She raised an eyebrow, testing me.

            “No, I don’t want you to tell me any of that.”

            “Why not?” She was getting angry.

            “Because it’s not true, sister.” Her jaw clenched. She looked away from me.

            “It is true. Lucien can vouch for me.”

            “The others believe you, Arabella. They’ve been talking about it nonstop. I even helped—I told them I was glad he was dead. I told them I know you best, and the look on your face said it all. You killed him.”

            She looked back at me, her face significantly less angry. “Then what do you want me to say?” she asked, her voice a shaky whisper.

            “I don’t want you to say anything. I do know you best, and I know how much pain you’re in. I just want you to know that I won’t say anything either.”

            She looked at me for a long time, clenching and unclenching her jaw. Then she nodded, understanding that I was on her side. “Lucien is watching him.” She whispered. “So is Mother.” She was trying to reassure herself more than me.

            “I know, sister.” I extended my hand to her, and she took it. “We’ll be fine now that the Keeper is dead.” She flinched at the word again, but she nodded. “Listen to me now, Arabella. You have to stop this. It was okay to mope all day today, but you have to show the others that you’re moving on. It was very apparent to everyone that you cared for him, and they won’t believe you anymore if you stay curled up in his bed.” She looked at me, her eyes wide with realization. “They all believe you’re grieving his death, not his absence.”

            Arabella released my hand. “Thank you, Veezara.” Her brow furrowed then. “I’m trying to understand why he lost his mind and stabbed you. He only said Astrid insulted the Night Mother. I don’t understand how that could cause him to hurt _you_.”

            I stared at her for a long time, letting the confusion her eyes sink in. “You didn’t hear what she said, Arabella.”

            “What was it?” She grabbed my hand again. “I have to understand. I have to understand him.” Her eyes were wild, almost traumatized.

            The way she said it made me uncomfortable. She was hiding something, something bad, and I narrowed my eyes. “Arabella, what happened in Dawnstar?” I couldn’t mask the concern lacing my tongue.

            She shook her head. "Nothing. Nothing happened. He said Astrid insulted him and Mother.”

            I hesitated a moment. Something was quite obviously wrong. “We were practicing. He was showing me some dagger tricks.” My eyes fell. “Astrid just waltzed in and demanded you be woken up. Cicero told her that you were finally sleeping after so long, and he thought you should be allowed to sleep.”

            Arabella nodded, waiting for me to continue. I took a deep breath, and squeezed her hand even tighter. “Astrid said that it wasn’t her problem that you chose not to sleep. I tried to tell her that you just couldn’t sleep, but she wouldn’t hear it. She started saying that you didn’t lead the sanctuary, and she did. Things didn’t stop just because you felt tired. I could feel Cicero getting worked up, and I tried to calm him down, I couldn’t.

            “Cicero was calling her a ‘pretender’, and saying that the Night Mother was the voice of the Dark Brotherhood, and she was in charge, and so by extension, you were in charge. Astrid just laughed, and then she said ‘that shriveled wench isn’t the leader of anything. She’s a body in a box’. She kept saying you were lying about being the Listener, and you were the only pretender in the sanctuary.” I shook my head. “Cicero just lost himself. He would have killed her if I hadn’t knocked her out of the way.”

            Arabella’s eyes widened. She let go of my hand, and leaned back against the wall touching the bed. She nodded, like things I couldn’t comprehend were making sense to her.

            “Astrid put it in his head.” She looked like she was going to cry.

            I was shaking my head at her. “I don’t understand, Arabella. What happened?” Arabella just stared at me. She didn’t say anything, but her eyes said it all.

            I felt my chest blossom with anger and confusion. “Did he hurt you?” I leaned toward her, running my hands over the blood on her face and arms. I was searching her frantically, trying to find a wound. I’m not even sure why, for I knew in my rational mind that she could heal any affliction she could have received.

            “It’s not my blood.” She said. “It’s everybody’s. Yours, Arnbjorn’s, Cicero’s.” She didn’t say anything else.

            I reached for the cowl, trying to pull it away from her face as I realized she never wore it, and so she had to be hiding something. She caught my hand, pushing it away from her with a sudden force I didn't know she possessed. I tested her with my eyes, trying to let her know I wouldn't hurt her, she could trust me. After a moment, her eyes softened, and she reached up to lower the cowl. As she did, the redness of her eyes became more prominent, revealing that she had been crying for a long time now. Then, my eyes wandered to her neck, where I could make out the bruises that were shaped like little fingers. Immediately, I wanted to hurt him, more than he had hurt her.

           "What did he do to you?" I asked, unable to conceal the anger that laced my tongue.

            Arabella blinked, taken aback by my sudden bravado. “I’m fine.”

            “That’s not the question, Arabella.” I lowered my voice. “What did he do? Because I can make a day trip to Dawnstar just as quickly as you could.”

            She just stared at me, begging me not to make her answer. I took a breath, and tried to seem relaxed. She didn’t have to say anything, didn't have to make any admissions out loud. I wasn’t stupid.

            “We don’t have to talk about it, then.” I leaned against the chair again.

            Arabella took my hands. “You’re right, brother. I have to show them I’m moving on.” She looked at me, pleading for me to understand. “I’m fine, Veezara. It was nothing.”

            I shook my head, my jaw clenched and my eyes narrow. "You're lying to me. I'm not a child, Arabella. You're trying to protect him, not yourself." I looked away from her, unable to stare at the marks on her neck anymore. "That's not 'nothing'."

            She sighed. “Veezara, you’ve been a dear friend to me, one of the closest I’ve ever had. You know me better than I know myself, and I value you every breath you breathe.” I felt my chest clench up. I’d never heard those words before. “But I need you to understand me when I tell you that nothing happened. Cicero has just had so much happen to him.”

            My brow furrowed again. “What do you mean, sister?”

            She hesitated a moment. “I read his journals, when I was trying to find the password to the Dawnstar sanctuary. There have been people who pretended to be the Listener before, and Astrid confused him with her words.” Arabella shook her head. “I think there’s another voice in his head, one that laughs at him and tells him to do things he doesn’t want to.”

            “Ah, I do understand now.” I nodded, trying to process all of the information she was giving me.

            “He’s lost. He needs companionship, and he needs to know others need him.” She looked at me, her eyes full of tears. “He doesn’t seem to understand that Mother needs him, so I have to show him that I need him. Not just because I can’t hear her without him, but because I need him. I can't keep fighting the feelings I have for him, regardless of what happens when he gets himself worked up, because that doesn't matter to me. What matters to me is that I know he's good under all of the bad, and I love the good." She hesitated, tears in her eyes a blush on her face. "But I can't keep fighting the feelings I have for you either."

            I felt my chest swell, an emotion flooding my lungs that was somewhere between embarassment and utter joy as I registered her words. "W-What did you say?"

           "It's difficult to explain, I suppose, and I'm almost disgusted with myself for admitting it, because I can't be sane for feeling this way for two people. I do love you, Veezara, in a very different way than the way in which I love him. You're kind and protective, and I know that you would lay down your life for anyone else in the world. You're giving and happy and I love it when you smile, because I find it very difficult to smile and I think it's fascinating. 

           "And I'm angry with myself, because I can't lose either of you. This is exactly how to do it, though, to lose you both. This is it, and I don't know how to stop myself. I don't think I can."

            We stared at each other for a long time, blinking and trying to find the words to say to each other. After a few moments, though, I understood that there weren't any words to say. Instead, I reached toward her, placing my hand against her cheek and wiping a tear away before I leaned forward to press my lips against hers.

            It was an odd kiss, awkward and uncomfortable, but the feelings I had suppressed until that moment boiled over, soaking through my flesh and spilling out into the open. I felt her small hand snake up to my neck, clinging to me as we separated and kissed again. 

            Slowly and hesitant, we pulled away from each other. I ran my hand across her arm, connected to the hand that was still against my neck. I smiled a solemn smile, one that wasn't really a smile at all. "No one has to know." I whispered, and I meant it. I would keep her secrets until she decided. I would _be_ a secret until she decided. 

            "No one has to know." she repeated, an emotion I hadn't seen her express before flashing in her eyes, and it awakened a part of me that had been asleep for a long time. 

            I pushed some hair away from her face, the coy smile that stretched across her cheeks triggering a grin of my own. She ran her hand across my chest, fumbling with the buckles of my armor. Her cold fingertips brushed my warm flesh for a moment as she struggled with the buckles, and I felt my heartbeat accelerate. 

            There were a thousand reasons in my head not to do this. She was in pain, overwhelming pain because she had lost Cicero. She was confused, her thoughts muddled because she didn't know what she felt. And I knew I shouldn't take advantage because I didn't want her to regret being with me. If I was smart, I would wait for her to feel like herself again. If I were smart, I would give her time to sort through her own thoughts. If I were smart, I would stop her hands and leave the room.

            But she'd never looked at me this way before. We'd never been alone in this way, and as she pressed her lips against the hollow of my neck, I allowed her to tug me into her bed-Cicero's bed.

            And at that moment, I was not smart. I was in love.

 

 

            Arabella had washed and changed out of her mourner’s attire and into a green dress. Her hair was half-pulled back, revealing her dark scar. She was at Babette’s door, speaking quietly to the child.

            “Would you mind helping me and Veezara brighten up my room? It’s terribly dirty.”

            I heard Babette jump up excitedly. “Of course, Listener. I’ll bring some candles I made. It will smell so much nicer in there after I light them.”

            Arabella turned away from Babette’s door and smiled at me. It wasn’t a real smile, but it was full of effort. We both returned to her room, and she began throwing what was left of Cicero’s things into a waste bin in the corner. She started placing her books on the shelf below it. I picked up her clothes and placed them in a chest near her bed. Babette entered shortly after with candles and paints. I watched her move about the room as I helped her tidy, frequently catching her eye and sharing a secretive smile. 

            After we had rid the room of dust and a cobwebs, Babette lit her candles and shared her paints. We painted a small window next to Arabella’s bed. The scene behind it was the courtyard in Solitude where Vittoria Vici held her wedding reception. It was hard to make out in the crowd of people we created, but in the corner, a small acrylic Cicero twirled Babette around in a dance.

            Arabella was much happier after that. She thanked us both for helping her, and just as quickly as the night had begun has the morning crept up on us. Babette retired to her room as the sun was beginning to come up, and I held Arabella against my chest as we stared at the portrait on her wall. She smiled softly as I left her new room, making my way back to my usual spot. Arnbjorn was up and grumbling, so he’d be out here soon to work his tools and make armor.

            The rest of the family should be up soon, no doubt ready to send Arabella out on another contract. She would be fine, I knew that. I hated secrets, but I could learn to love them for her. She hated to lie, but I felt better knowing that she could at least lie about being okay.

            The smallest part of me felt guilty, because I knew she loved Cicero and he loved her, but the rest of me screamed she would pick me. And I would keep her secret, that he lived in Dawnstar, if it meant she felt a little better.

            Cicero would do the same for me. I know it.


	20. The Old Man

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella and Festus go out on contract, the last of the contracts before the Emperor's assassination.
> 
> POV: Festus Krex

            “I was worried about ya, girl.” Arabella was sitting next to me in the wagon as we headed to Markarth for our part of Motierre’s contract. I was very eager to spend time with her.

            “Why’s that, Festus?”

            “You were on a real downer there for a bit.” After Arabella returned from killing the clown, she had stayed in her room for almost a day and a half. Veezara and Babette managed to haul her out, and she was in a much better mood now. That was about a week ago. “He didn’t hurt ya much, did he?”

            It was a stupid question, because he obviously had. The bruises against her neck had been prominent against her pale skin, and it was hard not to draw attention to them or ask questions. We all knew better, though, and no one said a word. The clown must have fought her, but she'd won, and that had earned her more respect than anyone had for her before she'd left.

            Still, she shook her head. “Arnbjorn did most of the work. He was basically dead when I got to him. I just finished things.” She smiled a little. “Well, Lucien helped.”

            I laughed. “I know it was difficult, kid, but you know the old saying: when life gives you lemons…go murder a clown.” I waited for her to laugh, but the most I got was a sharp exhale. I changed the subject. “I wanted to ask you about Lucien, kid. How long have you been able to conjure up a spectral assassin?”

            “Gabriella gave me the basics of it on our contract.” She smiled fully now, even showing some crooked bottom teeth. “The rest was just luck.”

            “You’re lucky. Lucien Lachance. A true hero of the Dark Brotherhood.” I shook my head in awe. “If I could conjure him up, I’d never stop asking him about The Old Ways. The Dark Brotherhood two hundred years ago.”

            Arabella smiled. “Here, let me drive.” she said, standing so we could switch seats, and she took the reins. Before I could say anything, she waved her hand and Lucien Lachance spawned right behind me in the back of the wagon.

            “Yes, my Listener?”

            Arabella spoke over her shoulder, but raised an eyebrow to me. “The old man has a few questions for you, if you don’t mind.”

            “Of course, my Listener. Hello, Festus Krex. Your work is admired in the Void. The Redoran Contract: in and out of Vvardenfell in less than forty-eight hours.”

            My jaw dropped so low I thought it would fall off. “Oh man, Lucien Lachance. You’re a legend. I’d like to hear anything about your days with the Brotherhood, if it’s not too much trouble.”

            “I’d be glad to share stories with you, brother. Have you ever heard the tale of Mathieu Bellamont, and the treachery of Cheydinhal? Kill a boy’s mother, and vengeance festers in the son…”

            I spent most of the ride to Markarth talking to Lucien, telling stories of the Old Ways, and listening to what it’s like in the Void. When Arabella finally dismissed him, I was so happy I could have danced around right there.

            We stopped for the night just outside of Markarth. Arabella seemed completely at ease out in the open fields.

            “So when are you going to tell me about our contract?” She smiled at me slyly. I hadn’t given her any information yet, trying to give the girl a little bit of surprise on our adventure. I couldn’t imagine the pain she was in, having just been forced to kill her best friend.

            “Well, I suppose I could let you know now. Astrid told you a little bit about this, right?”

She shook her head. “The only thing that Astrid told me was that I had to go out on contract with you.”

            “Well, well. My girl, you’ll be killing the Gourmet and taking on his identity.” Arabella’s eyes widened, as did her grin. “But first, we need to learn who he is. Assuming, of course, that the Gourmet is actually a ‘he’. Could be a woman for all we know.”

            “Any idea how we find out?”

            “Ah, indeed I do! Indeed I do.” I pulled out a book and handed it to her. “In my investigations, I came upon this.”

            She looked confused, but she took the book anyway. “What is it?”

            “It’s a copy of the Gourmet’s cookbook. Ah, but not just any copy. It’s signed, you see.” I explained. She flipped open the inside cover, reading the message. “Seems to be a message from the Gourmet to one Anton Virane. I’ve tracked Virane to the keep in Markarth. It would seem he’s the cook.”

            “And this Anton Virane knows the Gourmet’s true identity?”

            “I believe so. So, we’re going to obtain that information from Virane—who the Gourmet really is and where he can be found. Oh, and when we’re done with Virane, we’re gonna kill him. Loose ends and all that. Next, we’ll have to—are you still paying attention?” Arabella’s eyes were on the road. I couldn’t tell.

            “Oh, I’m waiting with bated breath…”

            I grunted at her sarcastic comment. “As I was saying…You’ll need to kill the Gourmet, of course. But what’s more, we’ll have to get his Writ of Passage, so you can take his place. We’ll hide his body. The longer it takes for anyone to find out who he is, the better. We’ll part ways after the Gourmet is dead, and you’ll move on to kill the Emperor.”

            She shook her head in disbelief. “Wow. The Emperor. It’s one thing to say it, but another to actually do it, huh?”

            “It is, my girl. Some profound thing the Brotherhood hasn’t seen in decades.”

            “Where can Virane be found?”

            I pointed toward the buildings ahead of us. “Markarth Keep.”

            Arabella thought for a moment. “Maybe we should go now. It’s dark, and we should cling to the shadows if we’re going to the Keep.”

            I hadn’t thought of that. “Maybe you’re right. I suppose we could go ahead and question him.” I rose to my feet. “You’re just trying to get rid of me, aren’t you?”

            She rolled her eyes. “Festus, we’re assassins. If I wanted to get rid of you, I’d use a blade.” I laughed at that as we headed to Markarth Keep.

            We were silent as we entered the city, trying not to draw attention to ourselves. I wore a hood that went with my robes, and Arabella wore a dark cowl over her black dress. By the time we wandered into Markarth Keep, most of the guards had gone to the barracks for the night. We climbed the stairs, slinking past a few guards who didn’t really care that we were there. Arabella got a little distracted as we walked past the dogs at the top of the stairs, but after a little nudge, we continued to the kitchen.

            Virane was alone, stirring a pot of stew. It was awfully late in the evening to be making anything, if you asked me. As we approached him, he started ranting, not even bothering to look up.

            “Yes, yes, for the hundredth time, I’m a Breton. I was born in High Rock. Then I came here. I’m not a Reachmen.”

            Arabella didn’t miss a second. “We know who you are, Anton. And where you’re from.”

            “Who are you?” He asked. “What do you want?”

            I spoke from behind Arabella. “The Gourmet. Who is he? Where is he?”

            Virane’s face was confused. “The…the gourmet? Never! I don’t know what led you here, but nothing will betray my trust. I’ll take the secret of the Gourmet’s identity to the grave.”

            Arabella tilted her head to the side. “For the Dark Brotherhood, that can be easily arranged.” This girl was damned good. Seeing her in action was really a treat.

            Virane’s whole demeanor changed. “The Dark Brotherhood? Now...now wait a minute. Let’s not get hasty. I mean, surely my friend wouldn’t want me to endanger my own life. Right?”

            “Oh sure, whatever puts you to sleep at night.” Sarcasm leaked from the girl’s lips.

            “Look, his name is Balagog gro-Nolob. He’s an Orc! The Gourmet’s an Orc. He’s staying at the Nightgate Inn. That’s all I know.” He waited. “Now…now you’ll let me go, right?”

            “Afraid not. Loose ends and all that.” I said from behind Arabella.

            “Wait—” His sentence was cut short as Arabella wrapped her hand around the man’s throat, pulling him into her extended blade. It entered his chest, removed as quickly as it had entered. The chef hit the floor with an audible smack, which alerted the guards outside of the room. Exchanging a look, the two of us slipped into the shadows, making our way out of the keep and toward the Gourmet.

 

            We were waiting outside the Nightgate Inn several hours later. Our journey there didn’t take long, but we were trying to be cautious. The Gourmet was out on the docks by himself, humming a tune and looking out at the water. I watched the kid, waiting for her to deliver the blow.

            Arabella slinked forward in the darkness, raising her blade and rushing at the gourmet. He didn’t have a moment to process the small girl approaching him before she had hopped onto his back, reaching around his head to slit his throat with her dagger.

            He hit the dock, and Arabella fell with him. As she scrambled to her feet, the orc grabbed his throat, trying to stop the blood flow. It took a mere minute for him to actually died, and Arabella plucked the Writ of Passage from his pocket. Then, I watched her struggle to shove his body into the water. She was trying so hard, but he was just too heavy for her.

            Checking to make sure no one was watching, I approached her. “Nice work, girl.” I said, leaning down to help her hide the body.

            “Thanks, old man.” she said between shoves. “Veezara practiced with me before…well.” She lowered her voice. She obviously meant Cicero, but I didn’t meddle.

            It took us a few more shoves for the body to topple over the edge and into water below us. We watched the liquid surface, waiting for all movement to cease. Then, we ducked back into the darkness and returned to the horses.

            When we made it back to the wagon, Arabella unhitched Shadowmere. I was going to bring the wagon back to the sanctuary, and she would take the horse with her on her mission.

            “I guess this is it, huh?” She said to me, leaning on Shadowmere.

            “It is, kid. Here, take the Writ of Passage, and this.” I handed her the paper and a satchel. In the bag were a chef’s tunic, hat, and a small vile. “The container is full of Jarrin Root. It’s an herb, but it’s extremely poisonous. It won’t have much of a taste, but it has one hell of a kick.” Arabella laughed rather loudly.

            “This goes in whatever I cook for the Emperor, huh?” I nodded, and she grinned. “Guess I’ll see you at home.” She turned to leave, but I touched her shoulder to delay her for a moment more.

            “Listen, kid, I want you to have this. It’s a ring I’ve had since I first joined the Brotherhood.” I slid it off my pinkie and handed it to her. “It’s called the Nightweaver’s Band, and I’ve worn it all these years. It’ll give your magic and sneakiness some much needed oomph.”

            “Thank you, Festus. I love it.” Her grin was so wide I thought her skin may crack. She slid it onto her middle finger, admiring it.

            “Now, you’d better get a move on. It’s time! Time for the final stage of this grand and glorious operation.” She mounted Shadowmere, her face still beaming from receiving my gift. “Kill well, and often.”

            “You too, brother.” She rode off then, and I hoisted myself up onto the wagon. I really was fond of the girl. I knew she would do great things for the Brotherhood. I headed home then, ready to report back to Astrid. I silently asked the Night Mother for our Arabella to have some good luck before I rode as fast as the wagon would pull me.


	21. The Gourmet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Posing as the Gourmet, Arabella gains entrance to Castle Dour and is ready to finish the contract by killing the Emperor.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            I approached the castle door, wearing the chef’s costume Festus had given me. It was really tight, but it fit. I guess I should be flattered. Festus must have thought I was much smaller than I am, but right now I was just uncomfortable. Uncomfortable on top of already shaking with nerves. Titus Meade II’s fate rested just beyond those doors.

            Commander Maro was out front. I felt a pang in my chest, reminded that I was the one who killed his son. _It’s just business_ , I told myself.

            As I approached him, he raised a hand, signaling me to freeze. “Stop right there. The castle is off limits until further notice.”

            I mustered up some courage. “Not to me.” I handed him the Writ of Passage.

            “What’s this now?” He took a moment to read it, mumbling some lines of the paper. “By Azura! The Gourmet. I’m sorry, I should have guessed, with your clothes.” His eyes roamed my body. Gross.

He stepped to the side, and I couldn’t decipher the look on his face. It was somewhere between lustful interest and acknowledgement of my deceit. “Please, proceed to the kitchens straight away. Gianna, the castle chef, has been eagerly awaiting your arrival.”

            “Thank you, my good man.” I strolled past him, trying to fake some confidence. I had tried to channel my inner Cicero for this leg of the mission. He would be great at this, pretending to be the Gourmet. I felt awkward and lumpy, not like a skilled assassin.

I had Lucien keeping tabs on Cicero. Every once in a while, when no one was around to hear, Lucien would appear and tell what Cicero was doing last. Apparently, Cicero was cleaning the sanctuary. Vigorously. He had wandered into town once or twice, but only for food. Then he retreated to the shelter of the sanctuary.

Lucien said he talked to himself often. Cicero talked about the Night Mother and Veezara and me. He screamed about Rasha and Garnag, begging for forgiveness from Mother. I told Lucien to speak to him when he checked on him, to keep him from losing his sanity. Lucien said that Cicero was always very excited to see him, and Lucien had a great admiration for the Keeper.

            I had to stop thinking about it now, as I entered the kitchen. I woman about my age was standing over a pot, stirring almost violently. She looked up when I came approached her.

            “Not another delivery. I told you people, our stock is fine.”

            I laughed, trying to sound uptight and dominating. “You misunderstand. For I am the Gourmet.”

            Her entire face changed. She was excited. “Oh! Finally! When I heard the Gourmet was being brought to cook for the Emperor, I could hardly believe it. And you’re a Breton! Just as I suspected. The food in High Rock is—“

            “Enough! The Gourmet came to cook, not talk.” I may actually be doing this right.

            “Oh yes, but of course.” She cleared her throat. “The Emperor has requested your signature dish—the Potage le Magnefique. I’ve taken the liberty of getting it started. But the cookbook only says so much, and everybody makes the Potage differently. I would be honored if we could make it…your way. The base broth is already boiled. What should we add first?”

            Hell if I knew. “A sweetroll.” I guessed. Hope that sounded good, because the only thing I knew how to cook was game over a fire. It’s the only thing Balimund ever ate.

            “How decadent! I never would have guessed.” Whatever, woman. “What next?”

            “Add a splash of mead.”

            “Oh, that will make this Potage so rich!” Gianna was bubbling with excitement. She watched me as she slurped soup from the ladle. “Anything else?”

            “There is one final ingredient.” I handed her the Jarrin Root. “Here, add this.”

            Gianna gave it a sniff. “Oh? What is this, some kind of herb? The Potage tastes perfect as it is. Any other ingredients might—“

            “Now, now. Who’s the Gourmet here?” I was screaming with laughter on the inside. It was working, and it was way too funny that I was getting away with it.

            She laughed uncomfortably. “Of course, I’m sorry. This is your most famous recipe after all.” She tossed the root in and stirred it around. “And if I may say so, it has been an honor getting to prepare a meal with the best chef in the entire Empire!”

            Gianna grabbed a cloth to carry the hot pot with. “I’ll carry the stew and lead the way up to the dining room. I’m sure the Emperor and his guests are just dying to meet you.” She picked up the pot and I followed her as she walked across the throne room and up the stairs. As we neared the dining room, I could hear fragments of a conversation.

            A woman was speaking. “I can’t believe you’re throwing this event. After everything that’s happened.”

            “You mean the wedding? My cousin’s apparent murder? An unfortunate misunderstanding, nothing more. Cold mead, hot tempers…these things happen.” That must be the Emperor.

            “And Commander Maro’s son? How can you allow that man to continue to lead your troops if he created the very person set out to destroy you?” Oh gods, Gabriella would just die laughing if she heard this. I’ll have to praise her for the incriminating letter she had written.

            “It’s the past, my dear friends. Come now, do not worry about things past.” The Emperor had a very annoying pitch of voice.

            Gianna paused outside the door. “Here we are. Gods, I’m nervous. Please, I’ll serve. You just stand there and…be amazing!” I rolled my eyes slowly, utterly annoyed with the woman. If she wasn’t careful, I probably would have killed her too.

            We entered the room to see a group of people sitting around a table. An older man was sitting at the head of the table, and they paused their discussion to look at me.

            “Aha! Here we are.” The Emperor raised his arm to gesture towards me. “Honored guests, I present to you the Gourmet!” They all nodded to me, I gave a small wave. “Ah, the Potage le Magnefique. So delicious. My friends, as Emperor, I reserve the right to first taste.”

They all laughed as Gianna filled his bowl with the stew. They all watched him take a bite, as I slowly backed around the corner, headed towards the door.

            I heard the man sputter and choke, then his head hit the table. Before anyone made associations, I was out the door.

            I planned to run across the bridge and down to Shadowmere, who was hitched in the woods a little ways south of here, but my plans were interrupted by Commander Maro. He stood on the bridge, waiting for me. Three guards stood on his flanks.

            Maro applauded me slowly. “That man was, by far, the most insufferable decoy the Emperor has ever employed. I’m glad he’s dead. But, I’m even happier that you killed him.” I looked around frantically. What was going on?

            He wasn’t done talking. “You, an assassin from the Dark Brotherhood, have just made an attempt on the Emperor’s life. Would have succeeded too, if it were actually him.” I was processing things now. That wasn’t the Emperor. Someone had set me up. I shook my head, trying to wake myself up. This was another dream. It had to be.

            “Surprised? I was too when a member of your ‘family’ came to me with the plan. We worked out a deal, you see. An exchange. I get you, and the Dark Brotherhood gets to continue their existence.” He laughed. “But you know what? I’ve changed my mind. How about this? I kill you, and butcher each and every one of your miserable little friends.” I was shaking. “You’re sanctuary is being put to the sword right now. That’s what I think of this deal. You killed my son! All of you! And now, you’ll pay the price.”

            Maro looked back at his guards. “Kill her, and make sure there’s nothing left to bury.” They began to advance towards me.

            My mind was spinning. I was going to die, right here in Solitude. There was no way I would be able to take on Maro’s men and get away before more came. Wait, Solitude. I’d escaped here before.

Before I could even measure the distance, I ran to the edge of the bridge and jumped off. I watched the space between my body and the water grow smaller and smaller, until I hit the surface with a painful splash.

I propelled to the bottom of the deep lurch, the wake of my plash sucking me further down into the water. I pumped my legs as hard as I could, kicking my way back to the surface. When I broke the surface, I gasped for air, adrenaline fueling me to keep moving.

I dragged myself out of the water, and took off running into the woods. I had lost my chef’s hat in the fall, but my dress was clinging to my wet body. I tore through the trees, searching for Shadowmere. I could hear the Penitus Oculatus charging behind me.

I got to Shadowmere and mounted him, kicking his sides to signal him to haul it. “Let’s go! As quick as you can.” Shadowmere took off, and we propelled towards Falkreath. I had to get there before Maro did.

But maybe I was already too late.


	22. The Lizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things are utterly normal for a moment, but the sanctuary is soon faced with the reality of everything that's been going on behind their backs.
> 
> POV: Veezara

            “One of the most amazing things I’ve ever experienced. He just talked and talked. So much to say, so much to tell.”

            I rolled my eyes. “That’s wonderful, Festus. You’ve found someone to shut you up for ten minutes.”

            Gabriella, Festus, Nazir and myself were collectively sitting and standing near the waterfall in the main room of the sanctuary. Astrid was in her study, mumbling and moving furniture. None of us could quite make out what she was saying, but she dismissed any of us who tried to speak to her, including Arnbjorn. The large, blond Nord was working his tools, frustrated by his wife’s odd mannerisms.

            Krex grunted. “Sorry, Veezara. I know you’d rather hear all about the Breton. You’re always dying to speak of her.”

            Before I could retaliate, Babette walked through, awake now in the late day. “I could tell you a lot of things about the Breton race, if you’re so eager to discuss my people, Festus. I have years of knowledge, and I doubt Veezara has the information you were seeking.” The vampire child gave me a knowing wink as she walked away from the group, headed toward the study.

            Arnbjorn grunted too. “No use going up there. Astrid won’t talk to anyone.” He continued working with the metal in his hands.

            “I’m not going to speak to your wife. The sun is gone, and I’m free to roam.” With that, she was gone.

            Nazir shuffled in his spot. “I have a stew to make. Anyone interested?” We all grunted in agreement, eager to eat anything Nazir would cook. Gabriella followed closely behind Nazir, and Festus and I walked together, still talking about Mathieu Bellamont, and the great treachery of Cheydinhal.

            Nazir interrupted Festus. “Any idea of when Arabella may return?” I had wondered that myself, and as always, I wanted to go after her. I knew I shouldn't, though, and that it would help much even if I did. Arabella was a skilled assassin, and there wasn't anything out there she couldn't handle. She had proved that after she returned from Dawnstar.

            Festus grumbled. “I imagine she’s on her way back now. Couldn’t have taken long, poisoning a man and running away. Astrid arranged for the exit to be clear. The ride takes a few hours, but Shadowmere doesn’t slow.”

            Nazir nodded. Now that we had reached the eating area, Nazir started chopping ingredients for his stew. “I’ll make enough to save her some dinner, then.”

            Gabriella dug around in the cabinets while Festus Krex scuttled about excitedly. I groaned, the sound of his feet against the floor irritating me. “Brother, maybe you should sit.”

            “Can’t, Veezara.” Festus said. “I’m too excited. I want to hear all about the kill.” He shouted in excitement suddenly. “I’ll wait outside! I want to be the first to see the Listener’s return.”

            “Just get out of my kitchen, Krex.” Nazir said with a chuckle. As Festus left, Nazir turned to Gabriella. “Can I help you find something?”

            “I just need to feed Lis.” Gabriella’s accent was thick, but muffled as she dug around in chests.

            I laughed. “There’s nothing for your spider in here, sister. Babette moved all of the spider food.” I walked toward the alchemy lab. “I’ll show you.”

            Gabriella followed behind me, and once we were in the lab, I handed her the tube of food, resting next to Babette’s usual seat in the room.

            The dark elf groaned. “We’re almost out. I’ll have to get some more.”

            I spun around to face her quickly. “No need, sister. We are master alchemists, are we not? We’ll just make the food.” I walked to a cabinet in the corner, and began tossing ingredients at her. “Let’s see here. How about some Nightshade? Or maybe a butterfly’s wings?”

            “Actually, yes. The wings.”

            I grinned as I held the next ingredient, then tossed it at Gabriella’s face. “A giant’s toe?” It hit her right in the nose, and after a moment of shock, we both burst into a fit of laughter. We couldn’t stop our giggles from turning into a roll-on-the-floor session of utter hysteria, Gabriella tossing the toe back at me, and so on.

            Above our noise, we almost didn’t hear the shouting. Arnbjorn’s rage in the next room, Astrid’s screams of protest. Gabriella and I stood quickly, looking for the source of the noise. She pushed past me to get a good view.

            Her dark face grew pale, and she lowered her hood. She took my hand, and pulled me away from the doorway.

            “Sister, what is it?” I asked, utterly confused.

            Tears collected in her eyes as she looked at me. “The Penitus Oculatus. The Emperor’s guards.” She shook her head. “They’re in the sanctuary.”

            I looked at her a moment, and then my thoughts processed in rapid succession.

            The Emperor was not dead, and so Arabella was gone. Gone either in her flight back to the sanctuary, her journey to safety in Dawnstar, or in her death. I would never see her again, and my heart ached. I should have told her I loved her, should have told her goodbye, should have held her tightly before she was just gone.

            Someone had set us up. Told the Penitus Oculatus that there would be an assassination attempt this evening.

            Astrid had been acting so strange this evening. Moving furniture. Mumbling incoherently.

            Gabriella whispered behind me, “By Sithis, do you think Arabella—oh Veezara, I’m so sorry…” She was dead, she had to be. She would have come back. I thought of that night, after Dawnstar, the love I felt for her. I closed my eyes, gaining some control before I turned to her.

            I put my scaly hand on the side of Gabriella’s face. “Stay here.” I told her, and she nodded. I moved away from her, toward the doorway. I looked out into the main room, watched the guards throw torches, starting fire around us all. I watched Arnbjorn transform, fighting guards as best as he could. There were so many, too many to count.

            “Up there! There’s more of them!” One of the guards pointed at me and a group headed toward the stairs. Arnbjorn looked back at me, nodding for me to run the other way before moving to stand in front of the stairs, guarding us.

            I backed into the lab and looked at Gabriella. She had conjured flames in both of her hands, and we nodded to each other, understanding that these were our last moments, and that was okay.

            I hoped Arabella chose Cicero, chose to go to Dawnstar instead. I prayed that she wouldn’t come back here, wouldn’t smell the smoke, and wouldn’t hear the screams. I took a breath, hoping that she was already dead, so she wouldn’t have to see our end.

            As I heard the men approach us, I drew my blade, stood in front of Gabriella, and readied for the fight.

            From behind me, I heard, “Veezara.”

            “Yes?”

            Gabriella was silent for a moment. “Kill well, and often.” I heard the tears in her voice.

            “Kill well and often, sister.” I said as the guards entered the room, weapons drawn.


	23. The Unchild

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sanctuary is under attack, and Babette frantically searches for survivors.
> 
> POV: Babette

            I didn’t know it would be my last time in the sanctuary when I left. I had just gone out to retrieve some Nightshade for some potions I’d been working on. It was dark, so I could move about freely in the night. Even though it was night, most of the family was awake when I left. They were all waiting for Arabella to return.

            I had wandered a good way off the path and into the woods. I was about to make my way back when I smelled the smoke. I’d only been gone about an hour. I heard a scream moments after that. I dropped my flowers, and ran toward the sanctuary.

            When I was close enough to see it, the sanctuary was in flames. The black door was hanging open and I could hear the screams from inside. Shadowmere was bucking and kicking, trying to kill a man by a tree. I ran over to help, but the horse was more forceful than I was quick.

I turned to run back to the sanctuary, only to face the tree where Festus was pinned. So many arrows through his body, securing him to the trunk. His hands were thrown up to protect his face, but he was dead nonetheless. I began to scream and rip the arrows from the old man’s chest, but I was interrupted by more screaming from within the sanctuary.

            I left Festus’ body and ran inside. Bodies of Penitus Oculatus guards cluttered the floor. The study was immersed in flames, and I could hardly breathe. I saw a white tunic run below, and followed behind it. When I reached the main room, I saw Arabella wearing a chef’s tunic, slashing her dagger at the Penitus Oculatus. What was happening?

            Arnbjorn was right behind her. He was in his wolf form, slashing guards and throwing them against walls. One came right up behind him, and drove a blade into his back and through his chest. Arnbjorn let out a loud roar, then fell to the ground. I began to cry as Arabella screamed, wielding her dagger at the killer’s face. She avenged Arnbjorn’s death, then left the room to find anyone else who could need help.

            “Listener!” I screamed to get her attention, but the sound of the flames were too loud. I followed behind her, trying to catch up. When I did reach her, she was on the ground of the alchemy room, her body hunched over a figure on the ground.

             I ran around to her, only to see her holding Veezara’s corpse. She was sobbing, screaming like I’d never heard before. She searched for a wound, but she couldn’t find one. She ran her hands along his neck, cursing when she realized that’s what had killed him. She conjured the light in her hands as she had before, holding his neck and trying desperately to heal him. The flames of the room were wrapping around us. I grabbed Arabella’s hand and tried to pull her away, but she held onto Veezara, shaking and screaming as her restoration magic did nothing to revive him. 

             I heard Nazir yelling from the eating area. I turned to run to him, but I tripped and hit the floor. I looked to see that it was Gabriella’s body that had tripped me. I started to hyperventilate, staring at the elf’s face.

             As I panicked on the ground, I saw Arabella kiss Veezara on the cheek and get to her feet. She picked me up and ran with me to the eating area. She set me down when she saw Nazir fighting off a Penitus Oculatus guard. She came up behind the guard and hacked at his neck with her blade, blood flying and spattering the walls and Nazir’s face. Nazir stumbled back, but caught himself as his attacker fell to the ground. Arabella was still on top of the guard, still stabbing, still screaming. Nazir pulled her away from her frenzy, setting on her feet as she regained some control.

            He grabbed Arabella’s shoulder. “So you are alive. I was starting to wonder.”

            “The Emperor…it was all a trap. Someone set us up.” Arabella was still sobbing, I stood behind her, holding her hand.

            “Considering most of us are dead, I assumed as much. And no, I don’t think it was you. Well, maybe I did, but you saving my sorry hide just now sort of erased any doubts. So thanks.”

             I looked around Arabella. “Guys, this is very sweet, but I don’t want to burn to death.”

             Arabella nodded. “We have to get out of here.”

             “You’ve got that right. Come on!” Nazir began to run from the room, another attacker approaching him. He took the man down quickly, and Arabella put me in between her and Nazir. I didn’t have any weapons, so I tried to stay close. We ran past the sleeping area, and down the hall to leave the sanctuary.

             I felt Arabella stop behind me, and I turned to pull her with me. Her head was cocked to the side, her eyes wandering about, as if she heard something. Then her eyes focused on the Night Mother’s chamber, and she bolted towards it. I tried to follow, but Nazir scooped me up and ran down to the main room, carrying me over his shoulder.

             We heard glass break behind us, and I saw the Night Mother’s coffin fly through the shrine of Sithis and into the water below. The Night Mother rattled around in the water, and then there was no sound but the flames engulfing it.

            Nazir looked around, fire blocking our only escape. The Penitus Oculatus were dead, their bodies burning with the rest of our family. He ran back through the hall to the sleeping area, and crawled inside one of the wardrobes. We sat in the dark, waiting for the fire to burn down. I was still crying, the images of our family’s bodies burned into my brain.

            “Did anyone else make it?” Nazir asked me from the dark where he sat.

            “I saw Arnbjorn and Festus and Veezara and Gabriella.” I said around my sobs. “They were all dead. I didn’t see Astrid. I don’t know if she made it.” Nazir was nodding in the dark. I heard him weeping quietly, mourning the loss of his family. We held hands as we sat together, waiting in the dark.


	24. The Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nazir and Babette search the sanctuary for survivors, but what they find is the truth.
> 
> POV: Nazir

            “Hurry up Nazir! I’m telling you, she’s in there!” Babette was encouraging me from where she stood behind me. The girl was covered in soot and snot, but she was alive. That was more than I could say for the rest of my family.

            We had managed to put out the fire in the sanctuary, but the bodies of our family were still scattered amongst those of the Penitus Oculatus. Arnbjorn had died near his forge, and Veezara and Gabriella were in the alchemy lab. They had been in there laughing like fools when the men barged in. They were the first to die, I’m sure of it.

            Babette was convinced the Night Mother had told Arabella to climb into her coffin for safety. We couldn’t find her body anywhere else, but I thought she may have escaped the sanctuary. Babette insisted she wouldn’t have left us here.

            “I’m going…as fast…as I can, you stupid she-devil.” I was trying to drag the coffin out of the water. “I don’t see you…helping.”

            “I’m not exactly built for manual labor. Now come on, you’ve almost got it.”

            I kept yanking on the coffin. “One…more…pull.” I groaned as I pulled the coffin onto the dirt around the water, and lifted it to stand upright. “There.”

            “Can you get it open?”

            “I think so.” I fiddled with the lock a moment, and when the doors flew open, Arabella fell out. Her eyes were frantic and wide. She clawed at the ground, trying to stand and run.

            “Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. It’s alright. You’ve been through a lot. Maybe you should just sit down a minute.”

            Arabella pulled herself to her feet. Her face was red and swollen from crying. “I have to speak with Astrid. She’s here in the sanctuary. Follow me!” Arabella took off running towards Astrid’s room.

            “She’s here? By Sithis, I thought we’d lost her.” I looked at Babette. “Let’s go.”

            Arabella was already up the stairs and in Astrid’s room before we could get to the stairs. When we entered her room, the wardrobe had been pulled away from the wall, revealing a secret room. When we passed it, Arabella was hunched over Astrid’s burnt corpse. Candles were lit all around her. Astrid was speaking when we came in.

            “Alive. You’re alive. Thank Sithis.” Astrid was coughing. Babette began to cry again when she saw her. I hugged the girl to my side.

            “Astrid…” Arabella began as she knelt beside her.

            “Shh…Please. There is much I have to say…and not much time.” Arabella nodded, and waited for Astrid to speak. “I’m sorry. So very sorry. The Penitus Oculatus…Maro…He said by giving you to them, he would leave the Dark Brotherhood alone. Forever.” Astrid coughed again. “By Sithis, I was such a fool. All of this…it’s all my fault. You are the best of us, and I tried to kill you…as I’ve killed everyone else…oh gods, Arnbjorn.”

            Arabella was silent as she waited for Astrid to continue. “I just wanted things to stay the way they were. Before Cicero, before the Night Mother, before…you. I thought I could save us. I was wrong. But you’re alive, so there’s still a chance. A chance to start over…rebuild. That’s why I did this.” Arabella shook her head, not understanding. I didn’t either. “Don’t you see? I prayed to the Night Mother. I’m the Black Sacrament.”

            “What are you saying?” Arabella was crying now.

            “I’m saying you were right. The Night Mother was right. The Old Ways…they guided the Dark Brotherhood for centuries. I was a fool to oppose them. And to prove my sincerity, I have prayed for a contract.” Her hand touched Arabella’s cheek, her burnt skin flaking off as she moved. “You lead this family now. I give you the Blade of Woe, so you can see it through. You must kill…me.”

Babette was sobbing violently behind me, and I pushed her behind me as Arabella took the weapon. A thank you escaped Astrid’s lips as Arabella drove the blade down into Astrid’s chest. The sound of metal hitting the floor rose up just before she began to cry almost as loudly as Babette. I couldn’t keep myself from letting a few tears escape either.

“Astrid…By the sands, I can’t wrap my head around it.” I said to Arabella, pulling her to her feet.

Before Arabella could say anything, her head cocked to the side, her eyes wandering around the room. “Yes, Mother.” She said as stepped around Babette and me. Was the Night Mother speaking to her?

Babette and I followed her back to the Night Mother’s coffin, where Arabella stood in front of the matron. She stood in absolute silence, nodding her head. Finally, she said “As you will it, Mother.” She then closed the coffin doors.

Arabella stepped up to me. Babette had stopped crying. Just like me, she was very wrapped up in what was happening with the Night Mother.

“What did she say, Listener?” Babette asked quietly.

“The contract is still on. We are to travel to the Bannered Mare in Whiterun and speak with Amaund Motierre. He knows the true Emperor’s location. Then I am to end Titus Mede II’s life, and fulfill the contract.”

“We’re still doing this? Even after everything?” I almost couldn’t believe it.

“Yes. As long as there is a Listener, the Dark Brotherhood lives.”

Babette stepped in front of me now. “What are we to do now, though, Arabella? I don’t think we can stay here.”

“We’ll discuss that soon. First, we need to bury our siblings. We’ll lay them to rest here in the main room. This was their home, they should rest here under the watchful eyes of the Night Mother. Babette, can you enchant the door when we leave? We should make it so no one else can get in to disturb their sleep.”

            “I can, Listener.” Babette went to see if she had any potions of enchantment that survived the fire.

“You’re right. This is where they would want to be.” I nodded to Arabella, the Listener. I knew this was her idea, not the Night Mother’s.

The three of us spent the rest of the night digging five graves in the dirt floor of the main room. We buried Astrid and Arnbjorn next to each other. Then we pulled Festus down from the tree outside, and buried him in between Veezara and Gabriella.

Arabella didn’t say a word or shed a tear as we put Veezara in the ground. She sat between Festus and Veezara for a long time, staring blankly at Arnbjorn’s forge. Babette and I went out to gather flowers for all of them. Finally, after we were satisfied with the burial of our lost family, we gathered what belongings we could salvage, and we all stood near the Night Mother again.

“We have to leave the sanctuary.” Arabella said, her voice was emotionless.

“Of course, Listener. But where do we go?” I couldn’t think of anywhere to relocate to.

“We will load the Night Mother’s coffin and take her to the Dawnstar sanctuary. I have the passphrase. It was written in Cicero’s journals.”

“When should we leave?” Babette asked. It was almost daybreak.

“As soon as possible. If we need to wait for nightfall, Babette, we can. Dawnstar is the last standing sanctuary in all of Tamriel, and we don’t have much other choice.” She waited as we nodded.

“Nazir, Babette. There is one more thing you should be aware of.” She hesitated for a moment. “Cicero lives. The Keeper is in the Dawnstar sanctuary. I lied to Astrid to spare his life.”

I understood, then. 


	25. The Fool of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero looks for something to occupy his mind in Dawnstar. Upon returning to the sanctuary, a surprise is waiting for him.
> 
> POV: Cicero

            Lucien Lachance had not visited in three days. He visited Cicero every day, but he had not been to Dawnstar in three days.

            Cicero knew what this meant. There were three possible options Cicero could see:

  * The Listener was far too busy to be bothered with checking on Cicero. She was trying kill an Emperor, after all.
  * The Listener had forgotten about poor Cicero, and she was out looking for a new Keeper.
  * The Listener was dead.



I had asked Mother to give me a sign that the Listener was okay. If sweet Arabella was dead, I don’t know how I would survive. Knowing she died while poor Cicero was shacked up in a sanctuary, it would be maddening.

Cicero had tried so hard not to think about the Listener, not to think about the kiss they’d shared. He didn’t want to love her. He didn’t want her to know he couldn’t be without her. He didn’t want to tell her that he needed her, just as much as he hopes she needs him.

But at the same time, I needed to tell her. Cicero’s brain was running in circles, screaming and kicking and pounding and begging for her to come back. My only way to speak to her was through Lucien, _and Lucien was gone gone gone!_

            I had busied myself cleaning the sanctuary, trying to make it look homie for when the Listener came back. Arabella had packed a lot of things in the satchel she brought Cicero the night she ‘killed’ him. His potions, his journals, some carrots from his room, and all of his coin. I was running out of things to do at the sanctuary, so Cicero would have to go find his own fun.

            He had heard of a new museum opening in town, so he would probably investigate that. It was dedicated to the cult responsible for assassinating Uriel Septim VII, so I was bound to like it. I approached the house, and opened the door. No one was inside, so Cicero just sauntered in. There were books ( _boring_ ), pages ( _boring_ ), and knives ( _sharp, sharp for easy stabbing_ ). There was a case with pretty red robes, though. The Listener would like them, Cicero thought. Arabella actually looked horrible in red. It was most definitely Cicero’s color. But the texture of the robes, and the design. The Listener would love them.

            I picked the lock to the case quickly, and pulled the robes out. I left the museum casually, not even really caring if I got caught. I would put these robes in the room I was making for the Listener. She would come visit eventually. She’d need a room. If she was alive.

            Cicero walked all the way back to the sanctuary. The snow was picking up, and Cicero was getting cold. He hated this terrible temperature.

            That’s when I saw the wagon. The same wagon I used to bring Mother to Falkreath. A large crate was in the wagon’s back, large enough to hold Mother’s coffin. I ran to it, hopping onto the wagon and trying to pull her out. Then I thought for moment. Why was Mother here? Was Arabella back?

            Then I turned slowly. Babette and Nazir stood behind me. Babette’s face was sad, but Nazir looked challenging. I climbed down from the wagon, my hand inching towards the dagger on my hip. My mind raced. _They’ve come to kill you. They know the truth._

            Before I could ask any questions, the unchild ran to me, her arms open for a hug. I knelt down to greet her embrace, still unsure about what was going on.

            “I really thought you were dead.” She pulled away from the hug, a smile on her small face. “We brought the Night Mother to you!”

            “Oh, my dear Babette. I have missed you and Mother so much.” I turned to Nazir. “Astrid sent you to bring Mother to Cicero? Astrid knows Cicero is not dead?”

            Nazir’s face didn’t change, but his eyes fell to his feet. Babette started to cry silently. My eyes darted between the two of them, waiting for an answer. “Cicero…Astrid set us up. She made an arrangement with Commander Maro. One of our people, and he would leave the Brotherhood alone. He played her. The sanctuary was destroyed.” Nazir’s usually sarcastic voice faltered at the word ‘destroyed’. His pain made this real.

            Falkreath was gone. Another sanctuary fallen. The last sanctuary in all of Tamriel was gone. Things began to process in Cicero’s mind, then he started to shake.

            “Astrid traded the Listener, didn’t she?” I asked quietly. Babette nodded slowly. _The Listener is dead. You let her leave. Why didn’t you make her stay with you?_ “The Listener can’t be dead. No! Not Arabella. Mother needs a Listener.”

            “Arabella is alive.” Nazir said to me. My stomach relaxed. “Nobody else is. We’re all that’s left.”

            My heart was burning. “Veezara? Festus?”

Babette shook her head. _Everyone is dead._ “We buried them in Falkreath before we came here.” She lowered her head. “Can we stay with you?”

            “What a silly question, unchild. This is your home, too. We’re all the Night Mother’s children. Oh! Mother!” I stood and flung myself on the crate, pulling it out of the wagon. Nazir was laughing, though I could still hear the pain in his voice. He helped me pull her from the wagon, and carry her into the sanctuary. We set Mother up near the entrance, where I could care for her immediately.

            Babette and Nazir only had three small bags in the wagon. I helped them unload them, and we reentered the sanctuary. I asked a million questions, as we sat on the floor near Mother. They told me about how everything was very normal. Festus had just returned from contract with Arabella, and she was still out, pretending to be the Gourmet. She was supposed to return that night.

            Then they told me of the flames and the murder. They told me of the Black Sacrament, and the Pretender’s grand finale. Nazir went to great lengths to express his interest in how Arabella responded to the Night Mother’s voice. How she would walk around like a blind woman, following the sounds she heard in her own head.

            That’s when the black door opened. We stood and waited for Arabella to come down the stairs. She was carrying bags of food to hold the new family’s appetite for the evening.

            When I saw her, I was standing behind Babette and Nazir. She looked different, hardened. Before, she was so innocent and soft. She looked angry. The chef’s tunic she wore was tattered and dirty, no doubt she hadn’t changed since the sanctuary fell. Her hair was pulled back, something she rarely did.

            She saw Babette and Nazir first, and her eyes softened. Then her gaze strayed to me. I folded my hands behind my back, unsure of what to do. Cicero wanted to run to her and hug her until she couldn't stand it anymore, but I didn’t. The last time I saw the Listener, Cicero had strangled her and screamed about killing her. Perhaps she was afraid of Cicero now. Perhaps she hated Cicero now.

            She handed the food to Nazir, who began to dig through it. Her eyes were still watching me as she walked towards me. She came so fast, I thought she might hit me. But she didn’t. All the Listener did was coil her arms around poor Cicero, hugging him tightly. I saw Lucien behind her, and he nodded to me as I held the Listener.

            Arabella didn’t pull away from me, but I could see her kind smile returning to her face. “I’ve missed you.”

            Looking down at her, I couldn’t control myself, overwhelmed with the love I had for her. I gripped her face, pressing my lips against hers rather forcefully. Realizing I may have hurt her, I pulled away from her. Arabella blinked at me, her brow furrowed in confusion, but her pale eyes betraying that she felt it too. She reached up on her toes, kissing me again.

            Remembering that Babette and Nazir were watching, we pulled away from each other. They stared at us, one of Nazir’s eyebrows raised, and we separated at least a foot.

            I cleared my throat and rubbed the back of my neck. “Cicero has missed the Listener very much. Thank you for bringing Mother to me.” I was excited to see everyone, but I had felt so empty without Mother nearby.

            “Mother needs you, Cicero.” The Listener said. Babette and Nazir nodded from behind the Listener.

            I almost couldn’t hold back my tears of sheer happiness, but I did. I danced around the Listener for a moment before Nazir rolled his eyes and pulled Arabella over to the spot we had sat before.

            We ate the food the Listener brought to us, and talked about what our next move would be. The Listener hadn’t said one word about Veezara or Festus or the rest of the family. I assumed she would confide in Cicero soon enough. I had given her the robes to change into, for which she was very grateful. She threw the tunic in the fire I had started below us, in the eating area.

            “Mother wants us to complete the contract. I think we should all go.” Arabella said when she returned from changing. She really didn’t look that bad in the red robes. She sat next to Cicero, leaning up against my back. “I almost didn’t make it back to the sanctuary on my own. If the real Emperor is as heavily guarded as the fake one, I don’t want anyone to go alone.”

            “I agree. We should all take care of the Emperor together.” Babette said, very serious.

            “And…” the Listener began. “I believe we should kill Maro, too. He could have just killed me, but he chose to kill the entire family.” She looked around at us. “I won’t live out the rest of my years knowing he’s lounging around somewhere drinking mead.”

            I nodded my head. “Cicero agrees. The family deserves redemption.”

            Nazir nodded again. “They all deserved better than what they got. Festus, Arnbjorn, Veezara.” Arabella’s back stiffened at the last name.

            “We’ll do as the Night Mother commands.” She said bluntly. “I think this is what she would want.”

            We all nodded. It was settled. Tomorrow we would finish the contract.


	26. The New Voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's left of the family sets out to finish the contract and seek vengeance for their fallen family members.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            I found it rather funny that we were about to end this journey in the Bannered Mare, since that’s really where Astrid started it all. Mikael was here when we came in, but we managed to slink past him, as he was busy trying to woo Carlotta again. He didn’t recognize me with the cowl on.

            Rexus did, though. When I passed him, my band of followers on my flank, he blinked in shock. I guess word had spread about Falkreath. All he did was point to the room at the back of the Inn.

            We blended in, even with Cicero. He changed out of his jester’s motley, as per my request. He was wearing a dark cloak, like the rest of us. He looked completely different without his hat on, something I’d noticed before, but he refused to change his boots.

            We stalked into the room. Motierre was sitting at a table, writing on some scrap paper. I closed the door behind me and leaned up against the wardrobe, my arms folded across my chest. Babette sat on the bed, Nazir stood in the corner, and Cicero stood right behind me, bouncing around excitedly.

            Motierre didn’t even look up. “What is it? I said I didn’t wish to be disturbed.”

            I laughed quietly. “I believe Sithis is due a soul, don’t you agree?”

            Motierre’s head snapped around, and his eyes widened as he processed who I was. “By the gods…you! You’re alive! But I heard…you’re sanctuary.” Motierre shook his head violently. “Please, you musn’t think I had anything to do with that. I wanted the Emperor dead. I still do! It was Maro! He—” Cicero started laughing wildly, interrupting the Breton.

            “Spare me the melodramatics, Amaund. The Emperor. The real Emperor. Where is he?”

            “You mean, after all that’s transpired, the Dark Brotherhood will still honor the contract? Why this is astounding news! Wonderful news!” He looked around the room, his eyes traveling from one face to the next. He was vastly outnumbered. “The Emperor is still in Skyrim, but not for very long. He’s onboard his ship, the Katariah, moored offshore in the Solitude inlet. But you must hurry! If you can get on board that ship, kill Titus Mede II as contracted, I will reveal the location of the dead drop the holds your payment.”

            “What about Maro?” Nazir asked.

            “Ah, yes. I figured you’d ask. Last I heard, he’s in the Solitude docks, planning the Emperor’s departure.”

            I waved my hand at Maro, signaling that we were done talking to him. I gestured to my family, and we left the Bannered Mare, nodding to Rexus on the way out.

            We travelled to Solitude immediately after that, not stopping the whole way. It took a few hours, but it was still night time when we arrived. We dismounted the wagon in the woods, out of view from anyone on the road.

            That’s how I found myself waltzing down the dock towards Maro, my family right behind me. He was alone, a stupid move to make, but he thought he was safe. He destroyed the Dark Brotherhood after all. Or so he thought.

            We hadn’t really talked about what we were going to do when we got to him, but I couldn’t control myself. I had been so angry that past few days, I didn’t need any plans. I was in full assassin mode, a bloodlust in my soul I could taste on the tip of my tongue. They had killed Festus, and Gabriella and Arnbjorn. _They had killed Veezara._ They killed Astrid, and they kicked the Night Mother through a second story window.

            I came up behind him fast, my fist flying at his right ear. Once I’d hit him, he hit the dock. I crouched on top of him, holding a blade at his throat. His eyes were darting around, looking for help, but he didn’t dare make a sound. I signaled to Nazir to hold him down. The Redguard put a foot on his throat, while Babette and Cicero held his arms down, hanging his head off the dock. Cicero was singing and laughing madly.

            I folded my arms across my chest, my head cocked to the side, watching him. “Hello, Commander. Remember me?”

            His eyes were wide in shock. “By the gods…you. You’re dead. You’re supposed to be dead.”

            I leaned toward him, my hands folded behind my back. I put on the most innocent face I could manage. “Supposed to be dead, yes.” He was shaking his head violently, trying to free himself from the Brotherhood’s grasp. “You killed my family, Commander Maro. You killed people who had nothing to do with your son’s death. But my dear Commander, you can’t kill the Brotherhood if you don’t kill the Listener.” His face became wild, but he stopped struggling.

            Cicero leaned down, and said right into his ear, “She’s the Listener. We’re still here.” He laughed like a madman, saying in a sing-song voice, “Give Sithis a ‘hello’ for poor Cicero!”

With that, I took a few steps back, then smiled at Maro. I said to my family, “Kill him. Make sure there’s nothing left to bury.” I turned away, hearing Maro’s muffled screams as the group ripped him apart. I never saw what they did exactly, but I heard the splash of water as they threw his body off the edge and saw the blood that coated the wooden planks that supported us.

            I said nothing to them as they looked to me, waiting for further instruction. I nodded towards the water. We _had_ planned this part out.

            I walked down the dock a way, then jumped off and into the water. As I resurfaced, I heard two other splashes as Nazir and Cicero jumped in. Babette stayed on the dock, unhitching a boat to take us back to shore. She wasn’t a swimmer.

We swam a good distance before I actually saw the Katariah. We were still for a moment just outside the chain leading inside, treading water and speaking quietly at the surface. I turned around to look at them. Cicero had a little blood on his chin. I felt sick.

“We get in, get to the Emperor. Kill anyone that stands in your way.” I told them, my breathing heavy as I continued to tread water. They both nodded.

“We’re right behind you, Listener.” Nazir said.

I looked at both of them before I turned to face the ship. “Kill well and often, family.”

            I climbed up the chain outside of the boat connecting to the anchor. I wiggled my way through the hole where the anchor would be pulled in, and hit the ground of the ship. I crouched beside it as I waited for the men below. Nazir was up first, and I helped him through the hole so he wouldn’t hit the ground as I had. Cicero was up, through, and on his feet before Nazir and I could turn to help him. He was grinning, his ebony blade in his hand.

The ship was heavily guarded, but we were a force to be reckoned with. Cicero and Nazir charged forward in front of me. We stayed in a tight formation. As the guards came towards us, Nazir and Cicero did the work with the blades. I was right behind them, charged firebolts in my right hand, hitting guards that came at them from the side. I had healing charged in my left, and any time Cicero or Nazir got swiped, I restored their health quickly, their wounds healing immediately.

We fought our way to the Emperor’s quarters, no guards in sight except the ones at our feet. We all stood, dripping wet from the water. Nazir’s cloak was still covering his head, but mine and Cicero’s hoods had come off. Our hair was slicked back and wet, his looking a dark shade of burgundy. He wasn’t bouncing anymore. He was deadly serious

I nodded to him, and he began to fiddle with the lock. It unlocked after a few seconds, and we stepped inside to face the Emperor.

            Titus Mede II sat at his desk in the center of the room. He laughed when he saw us. “And once more, I prove Commander Maro the fool. I told him, you can’t stop the Dark Brotherhood. Never could.” We stood there awkwardly in the center of the room, the men on either side of me. I was very confused. “Come now, you didn’t come all this way just to stand there gawking.”

            “Your ruling has come to an end, I’m afraid.” I felt my voice shake.

            “Oh, you can save your sinister bravado. I’ll not go to my grave whimpering like an infant. I know why you’re here. I must die. And you must deliver the blow. It’s simply the way it is.” He cocked his head to the side, sizing us up not physically, but mentally. “But I wonder…would you suffer an old man a few more words before the deed is done?”

            I felt Nazir and Cicero look at me, then back at Mede. “I’m listening.”

            “I thank you for your courtesy. That’s funny, isn’t it? The Listener listening?” He laughed quietly. “You are the Listener, aren’t you Arabella?” I felt Cicero tense beside me, uncomfortable with the fact that he knew who I was.

“You will kill me. I have accepted that fate. But regardless of your path through life, I sense in you a certain…ambition. So I ask of you a favor. An old man’s dying wish.”

He waited for me to nod in understanding. “While there are many people who would see me dead, there is one who set the machine in motion. This person, whoever he or she may be, must be punished for their treachery. Once you’ve been rewarded for my assassination, I want you to kill the very person who ordered it. Would you do me that kindness?”

            I seriously thought for a minute. I was really tired of killing. I’m not even sure I would want to lift a blade again after this. Cicero and Nazir looked at me, then at each other. My eyes stayed locked on the Emperor.

            “The Dark Brotherhood doesn’t do favors. But I’ll…consider your request.”

            “Thank you. Now, on to the business at hand, I suppose.” He stood, waiting for me to deliver the blow as I stepped toward him.

            He didn’t fight, so I made it quick, driving the blade through his chest with a suddenness that didn’t even surprise him. He hit the ground hard, and I dropped the blade and stepped back.

Cicero came up behind me, afraid I may fall. I did wobble a bit, but he steadied me. I leaned against him, and he pressed his face against my left ear. I closed my eyes. It was finally over.

            Nazir cleared his throat, bringing me back to the room and breaking up the private moment Cicero and I were having. I looked at the contents of the table the Emperor had sat at. A book on the Night Mother, and a map marking all of the kills we had made on the contract were laid neatly on the surface. The Katariah, where we stood now, was circled. Today’s date was written on it.

            “He knew the whole time.” I said to the men, looking at Nazir.

            “Maybe not the whole time. Maybe just since Astrid spoke with Maro.” Nazir reassured. I nodded, and took both the book and the map.

            Babette had brought a small rowing boat to the bottom of the Katariah. When we climbed down the chain, we hopped in the boat, and Nazir took the oars, rowing us towards the woods. We didn’t celebrate.

We sat in silence. I’m sure Cicero and Babette were thinking the same thing I was. The last time we were here, Veezara was the one driving.

 

            We traveled back to Whiterun, but as we approached the Bannered Mare, I heard Mikael singing inside.

            “I can’t go in.” I said to my family. “Not with the bard singing.” They looked confused, but I didn’t explain any further.

            “We’ll take care of Motierre, get the information.” Nazir said. Babette nodded. “Listener, what should we do about the contract’s last request?”

            I sighed, clutching the bridge of my nose with my fingers. Mikael’s singing was very distracting. “I would do the deed, but I’ll leave it up to you.” Nazir nodded. “I’ll wait over there.” I said, pointing to the benches outside of Jorrvaskr. “Be subtle, please, you three.”

            As I began to walk towards the stairs leading to the benches, I heard Cicero speaking to Nazir. “Cicero will wait with the Listener.”

            Mikael’s singing was louder as the door opened, so I walked faster, trying to get away from it. I climbed the steps quickly, and sunk into the seat.

            Cicero came up the stairs slowly, watching me. His hair was still slicked back, but dry. He had trimmed it since he’d been in Dawnstar. It was a little less than shoulder length. His jaw was clenched, meaning he was about to be very serious with me.

            The Keeper sat down next to me, one leg folded under him, facing me. Our hair and cloaks were dry now, and his hair fell around his face, framing his jawline. He watched my face, waiting for me to speak. When I said nothing, he asked me a question.

            “The bard is the Listener’s friend from Riften?”

            “Yes. That’s Mikael.” I said to him. He was still watching me.

            “He sings very nicely.” Cicero said awkwardly.

            I looked at him, feeling my brow furrow. “I suppose so.”

            He pushed my hair away from my face so he could look at me. “Are you going to talk to Cicero?”

            I stared at him for a moment, trying to fathom what it was he wanted from me. “What is it you want me to say? Mikael is singing while Nazir kills a man in the room behind him. It’s all very surreal.”

            “No.” Cicero said. “The Listener has always been very open with Cicero. Now she isn’t. She doesn’t want to talk about anything.” He looked down, turning his whole body away from me. “The Laughter says it’s because Cicero tried to kill the Listener in the sanctuary. Is it because I tried to kill you?”

            Gods, I didn’t know he thought I was afraid of him. I pulled his face to look at me. “You didn’t try to kill me. I know that.”

            “Cicero screamed and held you down on the ground and choked you.” His voice was getting higher, a sign he wasn’t alone in his own mind.

            “I’m not afraid of you, Cicero.” I said to him. His face relaxed a little. “I almost said his name today, Veezara’s. I saw a spider, and I turned to tell him that if he tried to trick me again, I’d throw rocks at him.” My voice cracked, thinking about the flames and the death and Veezara’s body. “I almost said his name, and then I remembered.”

            Cicero held my hands while I cried. “Cicero thinks about him every second. The last time I saw him, I stabbed him.”

            “He knew you didn’t mean to, Cicero. He knew I didn’t kill you either.”

            “I know.” He said, spinning Festus’ ring on my finger. “Arabella, I know how much pain you’re in. You needed him, and he’s gone, and I’m so sorry.”

            I nodded. “I did need him, but he’s gone. And that’s okay, I think.”

            Cicero wrapped his arms around me, pulling me as close to him as possible. When he spoke, it was barely a whisper. “ _I_ need you.”

            “I know.” I said to him, leaning against him. He was warm, and the night was cold. “Mother needs a Listener.” Cicero pushed me away from him rather quickly, staring at me like I was crazy. “What?” I asked.

            “That’s not what Cicero means.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “The Keeper needs a Listener. I need _you_. I don’t care if you’re the Listener or not. Cicero just needs you.” He shook his head for a second. “I mean, Cicero does care that you’re the Listener. He just…”

            I put my hand on his cheek. “I know.” I said. “I know.”

Then he looked to the stairs, where Babette and Nazir were walking quickly towards the gate. Cicero and I exchanged a look, then followed them immediately.

            We followed them all the way to the gate, and out to the stables. They were already in the wagon when we got to it. Once we were all in, Nazir took off immediately.

            “Well?” I asked. “Where are we headed?”

            “The money is in a dead drop. An urn in Volunruud. The same chamber you met him in.” Nazir was already headed in that direction. I sat back, looking at Cicero. He was sitting up next to Nazir now, looking back at me, his eyes knowing. It just had to be Volunruud.


	27. The Speaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nazir and Cicero collect the payment. Later, the Dark Brotherhood returns to Dawnstar to discuss what happens next.
> 
> POV: Nazir

            I had killed Motierre. Walking into the Bannered Mare, I thought I was going to let him live. It was his last comment that drove me to ending his life.

            When Babette and I entered the Bannered Mare, his apparent henchman was still sitting in the same seat. He was half asleep now, and I don’t even think he saw us come in. The inn was almost vacant. There wasn’t even anyone behind the bar.

            When we opened the door to his room, Motierre was pacing quickly across the floor, waiting for us to return. When he saw us, he jumped around us excitedly. He was almost as annoying as Cicero, with the bouncing. I heard Babette let out an exasperated sigh behind me.

            “Titus Mede II lies dead.” I said to the Breton

            “I know!” Motierre cried “I received the news not moments ago. Haha! This is glorious!”

            I rolled my eyes at him, too annoyed to even respond. Motierre caught on quickly and composed himself.

            “My friend, you may not realize it, but you have served the Empire, indeed all of Tamriel, in ways you cannot possibly imagine. Ah, but you care little for politics, huh? You want money. And money you shall have! Your payment waits for you inside a dead drop. In an urn, in the very chamber where your associates and I first met, in Volunruud.” Motierre waved his hand at us. “Now please, go. Relay the information to your superior, collect your money, and let us never look upon one another again. Our business, thank the gods, is concluded.”

The ‘superior’ comment caught me off guard, and I must have looked it. I knew Arabella led us, and I would follow her to the Void, but just something about the way he said it made my skin crawl. The sarcasm, the hatred that dripped off of his tongue. Motierre must have caught the look I gave him.

“What? What did I say? The shorter girl is in charge, no? Or is it the _lizard_? I haven’t seen him with you.” Motierre’s brow was furrowed. I knew he was genuinely asking, but his tone of voice made Babette gasp, and she was the queen of being passive aggressive.

I couldn’t help myself then. I pulled my sword from my hip and drove it through his chest. He gargled some mess about ‘having a deal’ with us, but I didn’t care. It was done now. I felt Babette tug at my sleeve, telling me it was time to go, and we did. We didn’t look back, either.

We were headed to Volunruud late in the night, nearly morning. We would arrive in about half of an hour, and the wagon was silent. I didn’t say that we had killed Motierre, but I think they all knew.

Babette and Arabella were sitting next to each other in the back of the wagon. It was so quiet, I could hear their breathing. Even Cicero made no sound as he sat next to me. He was turned around, looking at Arabella, but he didn’t say a word. I’d never seen him so quiet.

“Okay, this is starting to freak me out. Can we please talk about something?” I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What would Nazir like to talk about?” Cicero asked, still turned around to watch Arabella.

“I don’t know. Tell a story, tell a joke, or tell a lie. I don’t care. Just say something. I’ve never heard the lot of you so quiet.”

“Cicero has a joke!” Oh, great. The Keeper turned, his whole body facing me. He rested his arm on the back of the wagon’s seat. “Alright, so a wanderer and his woman are traveling through the open fields. They had stopped and made camp near a river, thinking that no one would bother to disturb them. Late in the night, though, the man rose when he heard the sound of a poacher outside.”

“Cicero, don’t tell this joke, it’s terrible.” Arabella groaned from behind me.

            “Hush, Listener. This is the best part.” Cicero held a hand up at Arabella. She sighed loudly and grumbled something to Babette. Cicero continued. “The man leaves the safety of his makeshift shelter to investigate the noise. The poacher was outside waiting for him. The poacher says to him, ‘I’ve been following you for miles. I’ve got a hankering for meat that only your pet horker can satisfy. I’ll have to take him from you if you don’t calmly hand him over.”

            “Cicero, come on. Don’t.” Arabella was still grumbling.

            “Listener, this is important.” Cicero leaned close to me, “The wanderer is confused for a moment, then realization stretched from ear to ear, and he says to the man, ‘that’s not a horker, that’s my wife!’” Cicero erupted in a fit of laughter. “Ah, I love that one.” he said around fits of giggles.

            “That was far and away the worst joke I’ve ever heard.” I said, staring at the Imperial.

            “Then you should spend some time working on your sense of humor, because Cicero’s jokes are hilarious.” Cicero was still laughing at his own joke. Arabella grumbled behind him.

            We crept up on Volunruud as the sunlight trickled up over the horizon. Babette climbed into her coffin, sheltering herself from the beams that would mean her demise. I stopped the wagon ready to climb down. Cicero had already hopped down, but Arabella hadn’t even looked up from the back of the wagon.

            “When you go inside, the dead drop is directly to the left. Past the stack of dead draugr. It’s not hard to find.” She looked at me, begging me to go on without her. “You two go. I’ll wait at the wagon and guard Babette.”

            Cicero gave me a look, telling me to just do it. I shrugged and headed inside, Cicero right behind me. We climbed down the steps that descended to the door. Cicero was mumbling in excitement right behind me.

            We opened the door, and walked past a couple of shattered skeletons at the entrance. We walked down another set of stairs, and Cicero turned left, nodding for me to follow him. He hopped around the pile of draugr, just as Arabella said, then opened the door. There were a bunch of urns inside, and Cicero wasted no time opening them up and tossing the contents around.

            “Not this one!” He sang as he looked in each one. He’d made it through three when I got to my first one. When I opened the lid, though, the gleam of gold caught my eye.

            “By Sithis…” I said as I stared at it. Cicero screamed and ran to me, looking into the urn.

            “Whaaaat?” he said. There had to be at least five thousand gold in here. “Cicero has never seen so much gold in his whole life.”

            We dumped the urn on the ground and counted the gold. Once we added it up, it was a little more than twenty thousand coins. Cicero and I were absolutely silent.

            We filled the urn and carried it back to the wagon. Arabella’s eyes watched us as we loaded it into the back, and climbed up to stand with her. Cicero took her hands, and I stood silently behind him. The sun was up now, but I could hear Babette wiggling around in her coffin, waiting for us to say something.

            “Well?” Arabella said, her eyes darting between us.

            “Twenty thousand.” I said.

            She was silent for a moment. “Twenty _thousand_?”

            I felt a smile creep up on my face. “Twenty thousand.” We all screamed and celebrated. Cicero and Arabella held each other for a moment, then Arabella jumped on me and strangled me with a bear hug. Cicero beat on the top of Babette’s coffin, whose muffled cries of joy could be heard from her dark chamber.

 

            We traveled home after that. Cicero drove most of the way, and I slept most of it. When we arrived home, it was night fall. Cicero had missed no time on the road.

            We went inside, still celebrating. Cicero immediately tended to the Night Mother, and I started some stew. Arabella and Babette sat at the table in the eating area, chatting excitedly about what to do with the money. It was all very normal for a few moments. Like nothing had ever changed. Like Falkreath had never happened.

            When the stew was done, Cicero returned. We all sat at the table and ate our dinner, then we had a real conversation about the money.

            “Any ideas, family?” Arabella asked as she swallowed a mouthful of potatoes.

            “I don’t even know where to begin.” Babette said. “There’s so much we could do.”

            “What about the sanctuary?” I asked. “It could certainly use some work.”

            “Oh yes.” Cicero sneered. He was sitting in his chair backwards, leaning over the back to eat his stew. “Mother can’t live in such shabby condition. She’ll need a crypt and flowers and candles—”

            “What about Delvin Mallory?” I asked Arabella

            “The fence from Riften?”

            “Yes, Astrid’s connection. You could make a trip to him, see what he could do to fix the place up. He did the entire Falkreath sanctuary.”

            Arabella thought for a moment. “Okay. I like that idea Nazir.” She smiled and nodded. “I’ll leave tomorrow.”

            “Cicero will go too.” The Keeper said without even looking up from his bowl.

            Babette looked at him curiously. “Why?”

            Cicero rolled his eyes. “To protect the Listener, unchild.”

            Arabella reached to grab his hand. “Thank you, Cicero, but you really don’t—”

            “Cicero is going.” He said, pulling his hand away and slamming his fist on the table. “The Listener almost died the last time she was away on her own. The Listener said it herself, she doesn’t want any of us going alone. Cicero is going. I’m going.”

            We were quiet for a moment, and then Arabella nodded. “Okay.” She turned to me. “Will you two be alright on your own?”

            “Of course, Listener.” Babette said from beside me. “You two go and do whatever it is people do in Riften.”

            We would be fine, of course. Such a strange question. Arabella seemed less than satisfied, though.


	28. The Harlequin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cicero and Arabella travel to Riften to speak with Delvin Mallory. As usual, wagon troubles set them back a day.
> 
> POV: Cicero

            Stuck in this damnable wagon. Cicero has decided he hates this wagon, and never wishes to spend another minute in it. The Listener was beside me, sitting quietly on the bench. I say quietly, you see, but not comfortably. That’s because this wagon was not comfortable.

            That’s when we hit the bump. The smallest dip in the road, not even a hole. The wagon wheel under Arabella flew off, causing the Listener to topple off of the wagon and onto the ground. I hoped down quickly to help her.

            “Listener! Is the Listener okay?”

            Arabella was a lump on the ground. She rolled onto her back and propped herself up on her elbows. “What the hell happened?”

            “The wagon wheel! It fell off.” I helped the Listener to her feet, then stomped over to the wheel. I grabbed it and brought it back to the Listener.

            “I didn’t bring any tools.” She said.

            “Gahh! The Listener and Cicero, stuck here!” I shouted “Stuck!”

            Arabella walked to the back of the wagon, grabbing her bag and tossing mine to me. Without even looking at me, she walked around and unhitched the horses.

            “I’m done with this damnable wagon. Let’s just leave it.” She handed me the reins of my horse, and lead Shadowmere away from the road to a nearby field. We had made it past the snow that came from The Pale. We were somewhere close to Ivarstead. Cicero led his horse behind the Listener, going where ever it was she was going.

            The Listener stopped under some trees and hitched Shadowmere to a lower branch. She was already laying in the grass when Cicero hitched his horse. We had reached the heat of southern Skyrim, so the Listener had rolled up the sleeves of her dress. She was laying with her arms folded across her stomach, her hands clasped at the fingers. I laid down next to her, but not close enough to touch her. She had been acting rather strange on this trip, and Cicero didn’t wish to bother her.

            All was quiet for a few moments, then the breeze picked up. It ruffled the leaves in the trees above us, and added a nice coolness to the air around us. It was getting into late afternoon, and the sun would begin to set soon.

            “That’s nice.” the Listener said to no one in particular.

            “It is.” I said, folding my arms behind my head. “Is the Listener stopping for the night?”

            “Yes. I don’t think I can watch the road move much longer.”

            “That’s the most the Listener has said this whole trip.” I said in a quiet voice.

            Arabella was silent for a few ticks, then she rolled on her side to face me. “Can I speak freely for a moment?”

            I snorted. “Cicero thinks we’re way past asking permission to speak.”

            “Well, I know. But still, I just…I have a proposal.”

            “Cicero is listening.”

            She fidgeted with the grass around us for a moment. “Well, we’re going to Riften, and I haven’t been to see Balimund in, oh gods, almost five years? Anyway, I was just hoping you might like to come with me to visit him. I’ve missed him terribly and I was just thinking that it might help me deal with—well everything. We don’t have to, you know, if you’d rather get back to the sanctuary.”

            I turned my head toward her. “Listener, please tell me that’s not why you’ve been so quiet this whole trip.” I turned onto my side to face her and propped my head up on my hand. “That’s a very silly request. Cicero would love to meet Balimund.”

            “Good, I’m glad. I think he’ll really like you.” Arabella rolled onto her back again, returning to her original position. The sun was getting lower in the sky, bringing an aura of oranges and pinks to the air above us.

            “Tell Cicero what’s bothering you. Cicero’s not sure how much longer he can bare the silence.” I watched her face crumple in confusion.

            “I’ve been talking.” She looked towards me. “Haven’t I?”

            “No. The Listener hasn’t said much of anything since we left Dawnstar.”

            “Oh, Cicero.” she began, “I’m so sorry. I really thought I had said a few things out loud.”

            “The Listener hasn’t said a word to Cicero.”

            She looked back up at the sky. “I’m sorry. I know you hate the silence. I guess I’ve just been thinking about a lot of things.”

            “Like what?”

            “A lot of things.” She wasn’t going to make this easy. I tucked my arms to my chest and rolled until I collided with her. She tried to scoot away, but Cicero grabbed her and held on.

            “Tell Cicero at least three things that are bothering you, and he will fix all of them.”

            “You can’t fix all of them.” The Listener was on the verge of tears.

            “Sure Cicero can. You just have to tell him what they are.” I meant it, too. Cicero couldn’t stand seeing the Listener this sad.

            She hesitated a moment, then said “Alright. Well the first thing is Balimund.”

            “Cicero and the Listener will speak to Delvin Mallory tomorrow, then spend a few days with Balimund. He can tell Cicero all the embarrassing stories of Arabella’s late adolescent years, and Cicero will try not to laugh too hard. Then, we can return to Dawnstar, and Arabella will make plans to visit him again the next time we have a contract close to Riften.”

            Arabella laughed, but she was still tense. “Fine, you fixed one problem.”

            “Give Cicero another. He’s very good at this.”

            “I’m afraid to go to sleep.”

            “The Listener was just asleep last night. She told Babette this morning she slept oh so peacefully.”

            Arabella looked away from me. “I lied. I never went to sleep.”

            “So the Listener has not slept since…when?” I tried to think back to the last time she slept, but I couldn’t think of a day.

            “I slept a little in the wagon on the way to Dawnstar, but before that I can’t even remember.” I ran my fingers over the scars on the Listener’s face. She had a little one at the corner of her right eyebrow that I found rather interesting.

            “And why won’t the Listener sleep?” The dark bags under her eyes were prominent now.

            “I have night terrors. I can’t stop seeing—well, they’re bad.” She still wouldn’t look at Cicero’s face.

            “Well, the Listener will go to sleep, and if she has any bad dreams, Cicero will comfort her. The Listener can’t avoid sleep or dreams, so she’ll have to make happy memories to cause good dreams.” I ran my fingers over her eyebrows, then the bridge of her nose. “What’s the last problem?”

            The Listener looked at me then. “What you said, outside of Jorrvaskr. I don’t understand it.”

            “Cicero thought that was the problem. He thought you were embarrassed to be around him now.”

            Her brow-line clenched in confusion. “Embarrassed? No, I’m just not sure I understood.” Now Cicero was confused.

            “What did Arabella think Cicero meant?” I continued to trace the scar across her cheek that one of her contracts had left.

            “Well,” she squirmed nervously. “It sort of sounded like you were trying to tell me something.”

            “I was.”

            “Well, what was it?”

            “It was exactly what Cicero said. I need you.” Was I making this too hard to understand? Maybe I was.

            “Okay, but you see, I’m not exactly sure what you’re trying to say.”

            “I am saying it.”

            “No you’re not. Why are you making this so difficult?”

            “Cicero isn’t! You are!” I let go of her and scooted over. She was going to make me say it out loud. “You understand exactly what I’m saying. You’re just trying to make me say it out loud.”

            “I’m just trying to understand what you’re talking about.”

            “I’m in love with you, Listener.” I waited a moment, feeling her stare at me. I couldn’t look at her. “Cicero has loved you for a long time.”

            She blinked at me. “How long?”

            “Gods, woman. Give Cicero a minute.”

            “Sorry.” Her voice was very small, but I could almost hear a smile in the back of her throat. I didn’t say anything else. I wouldn’t even look at her. I heard her roll onto her stomach, then felt her pull off my hat. I looked at her then, as she ran her fingers through my hair. Her face wasn’t sad anymore. “You were right, you solved all three problems.” She ran her fingers along my jawline, drawing my eyes back to hers.

            “Cicero did?”

            “Yes.” Arabella’s hair fell in her face as she looked down at me. “I’m sorry, Cicero. I think there’s something wrong with me. I can’t sleep and I can’t think straight, and then you told me that you needed me and I couldn’t understand why you could possibly need me.”

            I snorted. “There’s nothing wrong with you. The Listener is grieving. I know you miss Veezara and Festus and the rest of the family. Cicero understands. Cicero always understands.”

            The Listener leaned toward me, kissing me quickly on the lips. She pulled away not even a moment after, seeming embarrassed. “I’m sorry I made you tell me.”

            “Cicero wanted to tell you, Arabella. But he didn’t want you to think that he only loved you because you are the Listener. I love you because you’re kind, and you’re giving, and you’re sarcastic and dry and beautiful.” I pushed her hair behind her ear, lifting my head to kiss her again. “The fact that you have voices in your head is just a bonus.”

            Arabella draped her arm across my chest and pressed her face into my neck. I could feel her nose right below my chin. “Just one voice, mind you.” Her lips brushed my neck as she spoke.

            “Oh, Listener, that tickles!” I laughed, wrapping my arms around her.

            “Sorry.” She whispered, but she didn’t move. It was quiet for a few moments, then her breathing grew louder. She was asleep, at long last.


	29. The Apprentice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arabella and Cicero visit Balimund at the Scorched Hammer. Later, Cicero and Arabella spend some time together.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            Things felt a lot different now. Not just because I had slept, but because I had talked to Cicero. I needed this trip, for more than a nice place to live. Frankly, I had no problem living in the woods with my family. I felt happier now, knowing that Nazir supported me, Babette trusted me, and Cicero loved me.

            I think I always knew that Cicero loved me. From the moment I met him, all those months ago, I knew I had some sort of deep connection with him. I think I knew that I loved him when we went to Solitude. Sitting in that field while Veezara told Babette about the spiders, just sitting next to him, I started to love him. I had my suspicions, but I knew from the night we spent talking while Gabriella and Astrid travelled to Riften that he loved me.

            That’s where we were, Riften, walking down the steps to the Ratway. I had thought about wearing armor to speak with Delvin Mallory, but that’s not how Astrid would have done it. Instead, I wore a blue dress. The sleeves were short, very fitting for the heat that fell over Riften as rain clouds loomed overhead. I made sure my hair was clean and neat. Not for Delvin, or Cicero for that matter, but because after this business was taken care of, we were going to visit Balimund.

            Cicero pulled the door to the Ratway open, and we both walked in. The hall was dimly lit and very dirty, a thick layer of orange mud caking the ground and crusting against the walls. Cicero was right behind me as we walked cautiously toward the room ahead of us.

            “We’ll find it, Drahff. It’s here somewhere.” Cicero put his hand on my shoulder, stopping me at the sound of a man’s voice up ahead of us. We were deadly silent as we waited for them to round the corner. I felt my hands grow cold as I charged frost in each of them, ready to hit whoever came near. I heard Cicero pull his dagger behind me.

            Two bandits rounded the corner, and as soon as the one in front saw us, he charged. They both carried swords, one larger than the other. Cicero wasted no time, racing in front of me to meet the man before he could get too close.

As he tried to fight Cicero off, I ran around to the man with the larger sword and blasted ice in his direction. He yelled out as it hit him, but charged still. I quickly cast a ward, defending myself from his swings, while I charged firebolts in my left hand. As I dodged a swing, I hit him in the chest with a ball of fire. When he flew backwards, I recharged with ice and sent a frozen spike through the bandit’s chest.

I turned to help Cicero, but he was already done. He pulled his dagger from the attacker’s neck, mumbling “That’ll teach you to cross me.” Cicero walked over to me then, a short cut across his forehead.

            “Is the Listener alright?” he asked me.

            “I should ask you that same thing.” I placed my hand over his forehead, healing the wound immediately. When I pulled my hand away, it was like the scrape never existed.

            “Thank you.” Cicero said to me, a smile on his face as he kissed my forehead. I felt my chest swell up.

            “Come on, Keeper. We still have work to do.” I pulled his hand along with me as I headed toward the first room.

It didn’t take us long to find the Ragged Flagon after that. When we opened the door, a large blond man approached us.

“If you’re lookin’ to cause trouble, I’d go somewhere else. I’m not in a good mood today.” He didn’t sound very bright, but the muscle he carried intimidated me slightly.

“We need to speak to Delvin Mallory.” I said to him.

            “He’s over the bridge.” I nodded my thanks as we slipped past him.

            Delvin Mallory wasn’t at all what I thought he would be. He was a short, bald man who had to be around forty. He sat at a table in front of the bar in the back of the room. When we approached him, he spoke with a very thick accent.

            “Lookin for me, eh? What’s your business?” He gave us both a once over, then returned his gaze to his plate of food.

            “We’re with the Dark Brotherhood. We were hoping we could employ your services.” His head snapped up, his eyes darting between me and Cicero.

            “You’re with the Brotherhood? I heard the sanctuary was burned to the ground, an’ that no one survived.” His face grew desperate. “Astrid, is she alright?”

            I cleared my throat, trying to find words. All I found was Astrid, skin flaking off of her once beautiful face as she told me to kill her.

            Cicero must have sensed that I was gone for a moment. He entwined his fingers in mine, pulling my arm behind his back. “Astrid didn’t make it.”

            Delvin’s face sunk. I could see his heart breaking. I had figured they had some sort of intimate connection, but I wasn’t exactly sure what it was. I put my free hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Delvin.”

            He composed himself then. “For what? She wouldn’t want anyone feelin’ any pain for her.” He cleared his throat. “Have a sit then, let’s do some business.”

 

            Once everything was settled in the Ragged Flagon, we left the Ratway. As soon as we got outside, I heard the forge being used. Cicero pulled me up the stairs toward the sound of pounding metal. When I saw Balimund, I froze. He had aged so much in five years, I almost didn’t recognize him. He had very large moustache now that covered most of his face. Cicero turned to me and placed his hand on my shoulder. I waited patiently. I should have figured he would want to mediate a grand reunion.

            Cicero strode up to Balimund slowly, oozing confidence. As he got closer, Balimund looked up at him.

            “Come to see Balimund perform miracles with steel, eh?” He was still forging as he spoke.

            Cicero put his arm around the Nord’s shoulders. “Oh yes, Cicero has come a very long way to see you. Actually, I do believe my woman knows you.” Balimund was confused for a moment. Then, Cicero gestured to me with his free arm. Balimund took a moment to focus on me, then his face lit up.

            “My girl!” He laughed loudly as Cicero let him go. I felt my chest flutter with emotion as I walked over to him. He pulled me in for a hug, not letting go for a long time. When he finally pulled away from me, he looked at me long and hard. “You look so much different. Your face is all banged up.” He ran his fingers over the scars on my cheek and eyebrow.

            “Yeah, I took a couple blades in my travel. Nothing I can’t handle though.”

            “Oh I know, my girl. You look great.” His eyes moved to Cicero. “Who’s the harlequin, Bell?” I’d almost forgotten about that old nickname.

            “Balimund this is my…Cicero. This is Cicero.”

            Cicero extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet the kind blacksmith. Arabella never shuts up about you.” Balimund skipped the handshake and went right for a hug. Cicero loved it.

            “It’s great to meet you. You two come inside. I want to hear everything about your time away from Riften.” Balimund let Cicero go and headed for his home before we could say otherwise.

            Inside, we talked for hours about my travels and adventures. He asked about every single scar I had acquired, as well as all of Cicero’s. We told him we were part of a small group of wanderers in The Pale, and Balimund wanted to hear about everyone else we lived with. After a while, Balimund asked bigger questions.

            “You were gone for years, Bell. I didn’t even know if you were still in Skyrim. Did you ever find your family?” He looked at me so hopefully, not for himself, but for me.

            I looked at Cicero, his eyes wild with excitement for conversation and company. I held his hand under the table. “I did. I found everything I needed.” Cicero smiled as wide as I’ve ever seen it.

            “I’m so glad for you, Bell. I’ve missed you around here though. Nobody’s ever made hide armor as good as you do.”

            “Oh I’m sure you’ve gotten better over the years.” I said to Balimund, leaning back in my chair.

            “What about you, Cicero? Ever use a forge?”

            Cicero chuckled. “Oh, no. Cicero has no idea how to use any sort of tools. He has sweet Arabella for that.”

            Balimund laughed, not at all put off by Cicero’s third person derivative. “Come on, my boy. I’m gonna teach you how to make some daggers. The one on your hip is looking pretty dull.”

            “Oh yes! Cicero would love to forge!” The two of them left, Cicero’s grin big enough to last a lifetime.

 

            Night had fallen, and Balimund had spent hours teaching Cicero to forge. He actually wasn’t bad at making daggers, and he had a few new ones now. Balimund wouldn’t take any coin from him, saying that Cicero’s taking care of me was payment enough.

            Cicero and I were walking the docks of Riften, talking about the forge and about Maul, who we’d had an unpleasant encounter with moments before.

            “I could have slit his throat with my new blades, if you wanted. Cicero wouldn’t have even felt bad.” Maul had waltzed right up to us and told us to ‘piss off’ for no apparent reason.

            “I’m not sure he even knew who we were, dear Cicero. He didn’t seem that bright. Or sober.”

            “The Listener is probably right.” We sat down on the edge of the dock, our legs hanging off the edge. I was reminded of Astrid’s leg, hanging off of the shelf in the abandoned shack. I felt myself start to shake. I tried to stop, but I couldn’t control the trembling.

            Cicero grabbed me quickly, holding me a tight as he could. We rocked back and forth silently as I tried to gain some control. I quickly pulled my legs up over the edge, and grabbed Cicero’s leg, making him do the same. I wiggled away from the edge, pulling Cicero back with me.

            All the images came very quickly then. Grelod, the shack, the coffin, the Gourmet, the flames. Burning, burning, burning. I heard my own screams in my head as I saw Veezara, his neck twisted at such a disturbing angle.

            Cicero still held me as I shook violently. He was sitting behind me, with his arms wrapped around my torso. Beyond the sound of the flames, I heard him chanting “You’re fine. I’m right here. Cicero’s here.”

            After a few minutes, the shaking stopped. The images, the smell of smoke, the sound of the screams disappeared. The water was splashing against the dock below us, making soft wooshing noises. I focused on that as I leaned against Cicero, trying to relax.

            “I’m sorry.” I whispered to him. I felt his lips pressed into my hair, still rocking me gently.

            “Don’t apologize.” He said to me.

            “Our legs, hanging off the dock, it just…it reminded me…” I tried to explain, but I choked on my own thoughts.

            Cicero shushed me. “You don’t have to explain. I understand.”

            I closed my eyes, relaxing entirely. “Thank you.”

            We were silent a moment more before Cicero spoke. “I’m sorry it hurts so much. Cicero doesn’t know what you saw, but he’s sorry you saw it.”

            “No, it’s okay.” I said. “Being here helps. With Balimund, with you.”

            I felt Cicero smile, his lips still pressed against the back of my head. “Humble Cicero lives to serve.”

            I leaned the back against his shoulder, looking up at the moons in the sky. Cicero moved his face to press his lips to my neck. “I missed you while you were gone.” I said to him.

            “Cicero missed you too. But we’re together now.”

            “I know.” My voice was barely a whisper.

            “Cicero likes Riften. Why didn’t you ever return?” He lifted his face to look at me.

            “I think it was because I was upset that I didn’t find any family. I didn’t want to return to Balimund just to tell him I left for no reason. I didn’t want to come back as unhappy as I was when I left.”

            “But the Listener is still unhappy, and she returned to Balimund.”

            I sat up and looked at him. “I’m not unhappy. I’m sad, yes, but I’m not unhappy.”

            “Cicero doesn’t comprehend.” His brow was furrowed. I turned my whole body to face him, placing both of my hands on either side of my face.

            “You said you need me, you love me. Well I need you too. I’m surviving all of this mess because of you. I’m able to lead the family in this time of distress because of you. I’m making this trip to Riften because of you. You make me feel like I can do anything, even the things I thought were impossible three days ago.”

            Cicero’s eyes watered. “No one has ever needed Cicero.”

            I shook my head at him. “No, you’re wrong. Mother has always needed you. Babette and Nazir need you. Veezara needed you.” I felt myself start to shake again, having said his name. Cicero pulled my hands away from his face and held them tightly. “I love you, Cicero. I can’t help myself. I’m sorry I’m such a mess right now. I promise I’ll try to be better.”

            Cicero leaned toward me and planted a soft kiss on my lips. Just as abruptly as it had arrived, all of the sadness in my soul melted away. “You don’t have to be anything for me, Listener. You just have to do whatever makes your heart feel light. Go wherever you please. Cicero will follow you to Dawnstar, or Riften, or Cyrodiil, or the Void.” He ran his fingers across my face, tracing the scar on my cheek. “I love you too.”


	30. The Blacksmith

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balimund and Cicero have a heart-to-heart about Arabella and the problems she's dealing with.
> 
> POV: Balimund

            Night had fallen, and I was just finishing up the bit of cleaning I had to do at the forge. Bell and Cicero were inside the shop, hopefully asleep by now. The two were rather funny when they were together, but very rarely asleep.

            They’d been with me a few days, and I was surprised to find that Cicero slept about as much as Bell did, which wasn’t very much. She had always been a night owl, but the bags under her eyes were unsettling to me now.

            Things had been very pleasant with them around. The shop gets pretty lonely, and I enjoyed having the company. Bell didn’t miss a second at the forge. She was just as good, if not better, as she was when she was a girl. It seemed funny to think like that, because she wasn’t really a girl anymore. Even so, and even though it was not by blood, Bell would always be my girl.

            She wanted no part in teaching Cicero how to forge, though. She was content sitting by, helping customers, and watching me teach the harlequin. It took almost a whole day, but Cicero was forging like nobody’s business by nightfall their second night. Cicero wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t know how to use any tools. Teaching him the basics alone took several hours.

            I really liked the harlequin. The three of us had spent our nights, before I had to sleep, talking about Bell’s youth and her time away from Riften. She seemed like a completely different person, her face covered in scars and her hair so much shorter than it used to be. Her eyes were the same though, so kind and eager to learn. Cicero spent a while telling me stories about his youth. I’m not even sure how many of them were true. He was obviously missing a few screws, but I didn’t mind. He cared for Bell, seemed to put her first, and that was enough for me.

            Screams from inside the shop interrupted my thoughts, and I dropped my cleaning rags and bolted inside. I flung the door open and dashed down the hall in the direction of the screaming. I found myself at the door to the room Bell and Cicero were staying in, and I opened it. Inside, Bell was still screaming, and Cicero was trying to hold her down.

            My gut instinct was to kill him. As I started to move though, I gained a better understanding of the scene. Cicero looked at me, and held a hand up, signaling me to wait.

            Bell was still screaming, tears streaming down her face, but her eyes were closed. Cicero wasn’t holding her down, he was trying to calm her.

            “It’s just a dream, Arabella. Cicero is here.” He moved to sit beside her, and stroked her hair as her screams turned to sobs. She was mumbling something that I couldn’t understand. It could have been a name. “You’re alright. I’m right here.”

            Bell grew quieter and quieter, until she was silent. Cicero held on to her for a few moments more, then he placed her head back on her pillow and carefully stood from the bed. He looked at me, and I noticed then that his face was completely guilt-ridden, flush of his usual exuberance. He removed his funny jester’s hat, laying it neatly on the dresser next to his gloves, then took off his jester’s coat. He was left in a white shirt and his red and black pants as he gestured toward the door.

            I followed him out to the living room, where he sat in a chair and rested his elbows on his knees. He leaned his face into his hands, trying to rub away his own exhaustion. I poured the man a drink, and handed it to him. He accepted the glass, but didn’t drink too much of it.

            “What was that?” I asked him, settling into a chair myself. “Is she okay?”

            Cicero nodded, but after a moment, he shrugged. “Cicero hopes that she’s okay. She won’t sleep. I don’t think she’s slept in days for more than a few hours. It’s not healthy.”

            Concern ruptured in my skull. “What was that with the screaming?”

            He let out a long sigh. “The people we are with, our family. Recently, our home was invaded by…bandits, I suppose. A lot of people died.” He took another swig of his drink. “She has night terrors now, when she does sleep. I don’t know what she sees, but it’s not good.”

            I shook my head. “I’m sorry about your family. She has those a lot?”

            Cicero sort of winced. “Cicero has only seen this one, and one on the way here.” He turned to look at me. “She has them while she’s awake, too. I’d hoped that she was just grieving, but now I’m not sure if the loss has taken a heavier toll on her head.”

            I waited a moment, then I asked the questions I wanted answers for, but I couldn’t ask my daughter. “Bell never found her family, did she? All those years wandering Tamriel, for nothing. No brothers, no mother, no father.”

            Cicero gave me a look that almost broke my heart. “No, sir. She never found them.” He leaned back in his chair. “She hurts more than she lets on. I wasn’t there when our sanctuary burned, when our family was killed. Arabella was. She watched our brothers and sisters die, pulled them from the flames, and buried the dead. Her closest friend, Veezara, she found his body in the rubble.”

            I groaned. “Veezara. That’s what she was mumbling in there.”

            “Yes. I think that’s what she dreams about. Finding his body again and again and again.” He closed his eyes. “Cicero hates himself for not being there. Not being by her side when it happened. I should be feeling the same pain she is.”

            “You’re a good man, Cicero. Bell is like a daughter to me, she has been since the moment I met her.” My chest was swelling up. “It means the world to me that you care so much about her. The only thing I want in this world is for her to be safe and happy, and I know you can give that to her.”

            “Thank you, Balimund. That means a lot to me.” Cicero looked at me and laughed. “She was so quiet and innocent when I first met her. Just this…lost lamb who needed guidance. She found that with my family, with my mother. But these past weeks, she’s become so cold and hard. I don’t love her any less than I did before, and I don’t think I ever could. I’m just adjusting to what this has done to her, to all of us.”

            “She’ll be okay, Cicero. She was really dark after I found her. They just threw her out of the orphanage, no food, no money, no love. She’s so eager to help anybody by any means. She doesn’t think about herself, she cares for other people first.” I laughed. “In her first few weeks living with me, she always asked if I was sure I wanted her here. She wanted to make sure I was happy. Can you believe that? She would have rather lived on the streets than inconvenience me.”

            “Oh, Cicero believes it. That’s how I met her. I needed help, and she offered it only if it was convenient for Cicero.” Cicero laughed quietly, remembering whatever it was he needed. He turned to me then. “You raised a good person, and a wonderful woman. She makes me sane, something I haven’t felt in a long time. I thank you for that.”

            I nodded, accepting the compliment, though I knew that Bell was who she was not because of me, but because of how she’s lived. “Is there anything I can do to help with her? You two are always welcome here, and you can stay as long as you like.”

            Cicero smiled, but shook his head. “Cicero can only hope that time will help her heal. It’s almost funny to me. Woman is a master in the art of restoration, but she’s having so much difficulty healing.” He laughed at a private joke, or a memory, losing focus for a moment. “Cicero must return to his mother soon, for she needs me. No doubt she’ll want to speak with Arabella too, so I think we’ll have to leave soon. If not both of us, Cicero will surely have to leave.”

            “I understand.” I stood then, and walked to the corner of my living area, where I reached inside a chest to extract a smaller box. I walked to the harlequin, and handed it to him. He stood as he received the gift. “I’ve enjoyed getting to know you, as a person and as a man. I want you to have that.”

            Cicero opened the box, and looked inside. He was silent for a moment, then his face revealed his confusion. “Cicero is not sure what this is.”

            I cleared my throat. “Don’t worry. I doubt Bell knows what it is either. It’s an Amulet of Mara.” He was still confused. “When a Nord meets the woman he wants to spend the rest of his life with, he uses the amulet to propose marriage. Life is short in Skyrim, and we don’t like to waste any time.” I put my hand on his shoulder, and looked down at him from where I towered in height. “I’m not suggesting that you have use it, that’s a Nord…thing. All I’m saying is, whatever you and Bell decide to do, you have my blessing.”

            The harlequin looked as though he may cry, but he danced around a little before he gave me a bear hug, and I eagerly accepted it. He tucked the little box into his pocket, but he was very obvious about treating it gently.

            “Thank you, Balimund.”

            “No, thank you.”

 

            “When will he be back?” I asked. Bell sat on top of the workbench outside of the shop, and I leaned against the wooden support across from her, close to the forge.

            “I’m not sure. Probably not much longer.”

            “Where did he go?”

            Bell laughed. “With my jester, it’s simpler to ask questions once he returns. You’ll almost never get an answer before he does anything, especially if he’s trying to surprise someone.”

            I laughed too. “Do you two have enough food for the ride back? Dawnstar is a long way from here.”

            Bell nodded. “We’ll be fine Balimund. Thank you.” She smiled. “And thank you for letting us stay here.”

            “Of course, my girl. You’re always welcome—”

            “CICERO HAS RETURNED!” The harlequin’s shrill voice startled us both.

            Bell hopped off the workbench. “Where have you been, fool? I was worried Maul may have found you, maybe finished you off.” Bell tried to sound serious, but her smile betrayed her.

            “Oh, Cicero was just preparing a surprise for the Lis—the kind Arabella.”

            I laughed. “Bell hates surprises. Always has.” Bell pointed at me and nodded at Cicero.

            “Oh, Balimund, you jest with poor Cicero.” He looked at both of us for a moment, then laughed wildly. “Oh, oh! Balimund should not have told Cicero. Now I’ll have to come up with surprises for Arabella all the time!” He danced around happily for a moment, then noticed the bags by the shop’s door. “All ready to go, woman?”

            “Yes, everything is packed. We have to get back home, so you can take care of mother.” I had assumed by now that Cicero’s mother was sick, and needed constant care. Bell loved taking care of people, and that’s probably why Cicero wanted to get back so soon.

            My thoughts were interrupted by Cicero jumping on me for another hug, something he seemed rather fond of. I patted his back, showing him I appreciated the affection, but using enough force to stress that I could break him in two. He received the message.

            “It was a pleasure meeting the kind blacksmith.” He leaned a little closer to me, and said “And thank you for the gift.”

            “It was great to meet you too, my boy.” Cicero picked up the bags, then started walking.

            “I’ll wait for Arabella down here.”

            Bell nodded, then looked at me. She was silent a moment, then she just shrugged, a crooked smile on her face.

            “You’ll come back and visit me, right? And I don’t mean another five years from now.” I outstretched my arms, inviting her in for a hug.

            Bell laughed and gladly hugged me back. She was just a small as she had always been. “Of course, Balimund. As soon as we’re down here again.” She let go of me, the funniest look on her face.

            “Go on then. The harlequin is waiting.” She nodded, then walked toward where Cicero stood, not far from the shop. I watched as she tried to take a bag from him, but he held them away from her, insisting he carry them. My eyes never left them as they carried on a fake argument until they were out of the gate.


	31. The Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babette and Cicero have a surprise that they hope will lift Arabella's spirits.
> 
> POV: Babette

            “Come on, hurry up.” I said to Arabella. “You have to come see this.”

            “Alright, alright.” I was dragging the Listener by her arm. “By Sithis, kid. You’re strong.”

            “Wait for Cicero!” The Keeper leapt out of his seat when he saw us pass.

            We had returned from Volunruud two weeks ago, and Arabella still hadn’t gone farther than the eating area in the sanctuary.

            In Volunruud, Arabella had sent Nazir and Cicero inside. The sun was coming up, so I couldn’t leave the wagon. My coffin was in the back, and though we hadn’t been out in the sun much on the trip, I’d had no other choice but to bring it. Arabella said she was staying to guard me, but I knew it was really because she wouldn’t be able to go in without crying for Veezara.

            Cicero and Nazir returned with their faces pale. Motierre had left us twenty thousand septims. They all hugged and laughed and pounded on my coffin in celebration. When we returned home, Arabella decided she and Cicero would travel to Riften to get Delvin Mallory to see about getting the sanctuary fixed up. While they were there, they visited Balimund, a man who adopted her when she was sixteen.

            They had many stories to tell when they returned. Cicero loved Balimund, and apparently, Balimund loved Cicero. Arabella said that they spent four days in Riften after speaking to Delvin, just spending time at the Scorched Hammer and showing Cicero how to forge. He returned with three new daggers, and big plans of becoming a better blacksmith than Arabella. They arranged a trip to travel to Whiterun and see about using the Skyforge in a few weeks.

            Perhaps the most interesting thing of all was that they returned absolutely infatuated with each other. It was almost disgusting how excited I was about it. During our trip to the Solitude, all that time ago, I figured out that they had feelings for each other. They probably didn’t even know it then, but Veezara and I could just tell. They were inseparable now. Arabella wasn’t as exuberant as Cicero, but she was quite obviously happy.

            The renovations were done now. There were three large rooms at the end of the big hallway downstairs, but Arabella never went that far. She had opted to spend the money that she could have spent on a torture room to pay for a fully furnished kitchen for Nazir and a forge where the torture room would have been. She said Cicero returned to Delvin Mallory and demanded it, with his newfound hobby of forgery. The Keeper even insisted in dedicating it to Arnbjorn, saying he ‘missed the damned dog’s noise.’

            Arabella was much happier after she returned from Riften. Even so, she hadn’t made it past the eating area. She didn’t sleep much at our old home, but she slept even less here. She kept coming up with excuses not to go downstairs, so Cicero and I had come up with an idea to make her feel more at home here.

            We were headed down the hallway past the practicing area now. The long hallway housed three rooms, one at the end of the hall and two on either side. Nazir and I shared my room until we came into enough money to expand the sanctuary, since we had different sleeping schedules. Cicero’s was opposite mine, but Arabella still wouldn’t visit her room.

            As we got closer to the door, Cicero covered her eyes with his gloved hands.

            “Oh, come on.” She complained. “I hate surprises. Just tell me why we’re down here.”

            “Shut up, Listener.” The Keeper said from behind her. “Babette and Cicero worked very hard on this.” He was right. I had busied myself with it while they were in Riften. Cicero had helped when they returned.

            “Fine, Keeper. Just stop stepping on the back of my heels.” 

            I pushed the door open, and Cicero walked with Arabella in to the room. I turned to face her, practically bursting with excitement. “Okay, Cicero. Let her go.”

            Cicero let go of her face, and Arabella opened her eyes. She looked at me first, then around the room. Her eyes were wide in awe for a moment, and then she started to cry. She wasn’t sad though. She was very happy.

            Just like Veezara and I had done after Cicero’s ‘death’, the Keeper and I had painted windows all around Arabella’s room. This time, though, instead of painting frames, Cicero had built some wooden frames to make them look a little more realistic. There were four different scenes.

            Arabella put both her hands on either side of my face, and pressed her forehead to mine. “Thank you, sister.”

            “Go look at them. Each one is a different scene. A little story of yours.” I said to her. “Cicero told me what to paint for most of them.” Arabella moved away from me, her eyes still watering. She wore a huge smile though, exposing her crooked bottom teeth.

            We all walked to the first window. It was a larger, more detailed version of the one Veezara and I had painted at Falkreath. The courtyard in Solitude, where amongst the crowd, Cicero and I danced. I had expanded it a bit, though. Now, we could see past the wall, where a small green Veezara waited below as Arabella jumped off of it. Arabella traced the frame with her fingers, nodding happily.

            I pulled her to the next window. Behind this one, Cicero and Arabella were standing on the road outside the Loreius Farm. Arabella held a box of tools, and Cicero was bouncing around happily. Arabella laughed when she saw this one, grabbing the Keeper’s hand and giving it a squeeze.

            The next one was rather difficult to paint. Partly because I wasn’t there when it happened, but mostly because I got choked up when I painted the people in it. This one was of Cicero holding Arabella’s hand up in front of the Night Mother’s coffin. Astrid stood in front of them, looking very confused. Behind her stood Gabriella, Arnbjorn, Festus, and Veezara.

            The last painting was behind the door that entered the room, so you could only see it when you left. This was the painting Cicero had insisted I paint. When Arabella saw it, she began to cry real tears. This window framed Arabella and Veezara sitting on the bench in the eating area as Astrid told us that we would take Motierre’s contract. Cicero stood beside her, his hand on her shoulder, holding a bag of potions. Veezara and Arabella were exchanging a secretive smile.

            Arabella turned away from the last painting, and grabbed me for a hug. “They’re wonderful, Babette. Thank you so much.”

            “You needed to grieve these past few weeks. Now, you need to move on. Don’t think about what they didn’t get in death. Think about what they got in life. Think about the hope they gave you, and the friendship you found in them. Be happy you lived to tell their story.”

            “I will, sister. I promise.” She released me, and hugged Cicero. The Keeper showered her face with kisses, almost making me uncomfortable. They held each other for a moment, then Arabella’s back went stiff. She cocked her head to the side, her eyes wandering around the room. She put her hands on Cicero’s shoulders, indicating she needed to be let go of. He released her, his eyes very confused.

            “The Night Mother is speaking to her.” I explained to him. His eyes widened, and he started to jump excitedly.

            “Ohh tell Cicero what Mother is saying!” Arabella held her hand up, still looking at nothing. She walked all the way down the hall, up the stairs, past the eating area, up even more stairs, and to the Night Mother’s coffin. We followed behind her eagerly.

            Arabella stood before the coffin, her head bowed as we stood in silence behind her. Even Nazir was watching from around the corner. A long while passed before she even moved.

            “Thank you, Mother.” She said, then turned toward us.

            “Well? What did Mother say? Oh please tell Cicero.” Cicero was about to burst.

            Arabella smiled. “We have another contract.”


	32. The Follower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Brotherhood travels back to the Falkreath Sanctuary to pay tribute to their fallen family members.
> 
> POV: Cicero

            Many things had changed since Cicero’s family arrived at his sanctuary. He had thought he would never see them again. He was right about that, for some of his family members, but not all of them. His dear Babette, wise Nazir, and kind Listener were with him and the sweet Night Mother now. No longer would he worry about being in solitude, in loneliness.

            The family was traveling today. It had been a full month since Falkreath sanctuary fell, and Nazir suggested we go visit our family. Babette was very invested in the idea, packing everything anyone could possibly need. The Listener was happy to help, but she was nervous to go.

            Since the day we killed the Emperor, everyone had changed so much. No one was the same person they used to be.

            Nazir didn’t care for me too much when I met him. Cicero could feel Nazir’s distaste for him emanating from his body. But now, Nazir actually seemed to like poor Cicero. He still complained to the Listener, asking her to do something about all of Cicero’s dancing, but every once in a while, when he thought no one could see, he laughed at my foolish antics.

            Sweet Babette had changed too, but not nearly as much as the others. She used to be so reserved, so afraid to share her ideas with anyone. So used to being trapped in the body of a child, destined to be forever treated like one. Now, Arabella looked to her as the wisest member of our family. She held seniority over us, and the Listener made sure that this was known and understood.

            Kind Arabella has changed most of all, Cicero thinks. She seemed so lost when I first met her. Her pale eyes were innocent then, and her soul was darkened by the things she did not know yet eternally searched for. Now, she was the Listener. The leader of our band of misfits. Her eyes were still pale and gray, yet they were knowing. She had seen most everything one can see, but she doesn’t let it trouble her. Her soul is lightened, too, brought out of the shadows by Veezara’s memory, Astrid’s mistakes, and all of our companionship.

            Cicero has changed as well, he supposes. Once clouded by the laughter, shunned by society, and plagued by madness, Cicero finally felt sane. I was finally the perfect blend of who I used to be, and who Cicero is now. I can be quiet and understanding, but I can also be loud and curious. I finally feel like I’ve found my forever home. Wherever the Listener went, that’s where I wanted to be.

            We would arrive at Falkreath tomorrow. It was a long way from Dawnstar, but none of us minded. We had done several contracts for Mother in the last month, but it was finally time to close the wound the burning of the sanctuary left on our hearts.

            We had stopped for the night. Nazir was asleep now, near the fire where Cicero was writing quietly in his new journal. Babette had gone off into the night to hunt, which Cicero had no complaints about. He would much rather she quench her thirst for blood on some hunter rather than poor Cicero. Arabella was sitting in the grass a little ways away from everyone.

            Cicero finished his writing, closed his book, and walked toward where the Listener sat. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that sat high on her head, and her hair was now long enough to swing from the ponytail between her shoulder blades. Dressed in her typical mourner’s clothes, she watched the stars and hummed to herself. She heard me coming from behind her, and turned to smile at me.

            I sat down next to her, nudging her shoulder with mine. “Is the Listener avoiding Cicero or admiring the scenery?” I asked her jokingly.

            “Well, I was avoiding you, but you ruined that.” She nudged me back. “I was thinking about my life, and how vastly different it’s become.”

            I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and nuzzled my face into her neck. “Oh yes, the Listener was a lost puppy almost a year ago, searching for her family. When will you continue your search? You have brothers and a mother out there somewhere.”

            Arabella smiled at me, her cheeks flushed in the heat of the evening. “I don’t need to look anymore. I have a family.”

            I felt my heart surge. “Good. I’m glad the Listener is happy.” I pulled away from her to look at her face, speckled with little scars and lined with larger ones. Still, it was a very good face. “Cicero is happy, too.”

            “I wanted to make a trip to Riften after we visit the sanctuary tomorrow. I figured we could see Balimund while we’re down here. Maybe you could use the forge.” Arabella smiled at me. She looked so hopeful.

            Hearing the blacksmith’s name, I put my hand on my pocket. Beneath, the amulet sat, waiting for the right opportunity. The kindest gift I’ve ever received, and Cicero’s most prized possession. I looked at the Listener, her face blushed in the heat of the night, then quickly placed the amulet at number two. “You don’t have to ask Cicero twice. He loves Balimund.”

            “Balimund likes you too.” she said. “I bet he’ll like everyone else too.” When we visited Balimund for the first time, Arabella said she had joined a small faction of travelers in Dawnstar, but didn’t mention what we actually did. He was very surprised to see her with someone though. She introduced me as ‘her…Cicero’, a term that was very flattering to me, but likely rather confusing to the blacksmith. Balimund didn’t even ask. He was just so pleased to see Arabella happy.

            “Cicero is sure he will.” I laid back in the grass, folding my arms behind my head. It was silent for a while, as I laid there and Arabella sat beside me. Finally, I had a proposal. “How about Cicero asks the Listener a question, and she has to answer, then the Listener asks Cicero a question that he has to answer?”

            Arabella laughed and laid back next to me in the grass. “Fine. Ask away.”

            “Does the Listener miss wandering Tamriel?”

            “No. It did a terrible number on my feet.” She said laughing. “I think I wandered because I didn’t have anywhere to travel to. Now I’ve found my place, and I have no desire to wander.”

            “Cicero likes that answer.” I said

            “Oh, I’m so glad Cicero approves.” Arabella snorted at me. “Do you ever wonder what your life would be life without the Brotherhood?”

            “Cicero was destined to be Keeper. He would have found Mother and her Listener one way or another.” I looked at her, my face very serious. “Is it bad tonight?” The Listener often woke in the middle of the night screaming. Sometimes, she just screamed and didn’t wake up. I would try so hard to calm her down, to make her see that they were just dreams, but she took a while to talk down. I’ll never see what she saw, but Babette told me it was horrible. Arabella hunched over Veezara’s body, just screaming. She herself had nightmares about it.

            She was thoughtful for a moment. “It’s manageable. Tomorrow will be difficult, being at their graves, but right now it’s manageable.”

            “Cicero hears your screams at night. The nightmares you have, are they bad?” I reached for her hand. We usually held hands when we spoke seriously to each other.

            “It was my turn to ask a question, fool.” She smiled at me, holding my hand tightly. “Sometimes they’re unbearable. I dream of finding Veezara’s body, flung across that table. I dream of pulling the arrows out of Festus Krex’s body. I dream of Arnbjorn’s eyes, staring at me as he died. I dream of Astrid’s burnt corpse, whispering to me.” She shivered. “Some nights, it’s unbearable. Tonight, it’s manageable.”

            “Okay, Listener.”

            “I get to ask two questions now.” She rolled onto her stomach, a loose piece of hair falling in her face. “Mother wants us to rebuild, bring her more children. How do we know where to start?”

            I thought for a long time before I answered. “Well, how was Arabella recruited?”

            “Astrid tracked me down after I stole a contract.”

            “Well, perhaps that’s what we do. We find the lost souls who need a home. Astrid did always have a soft spot for misfits. She invited poor Cicero and Arabella to stay with her, and now they stand defending the Night Mother every day.”

            Arabella nodded. “You’re right.”

            “What’s the Listener’s last question?”

            “Do you miss them?” She took my hand again.

            “Who?”

            “Everyone.” Arabella rested her head against my chest. I placed my arm on her back, holding her close to me.

            “Everyday.”

 

            We arrived at the sanctuary late the next day. The sun was going down, so Babette could rouse from her undead slumber. I parked the new wagon just beyond the trees, out of the sight of the road. We approached the familiar black door, and Babette opened it. She was the only one who could unlock it after she placed all of the enchantments on it. Once inside, we were greeted by the spectral guardians who kept intruders from getting to close to the sanctuary’s entrance.

            We walked past the burnt study, the unidentifiable corpses of the Penitus Oculatus that cluttered the floor. Down the steps we went, and enter the main room we did. I hadn’t been here since Arnbjorn chased me away, so it was rather appalling to see the sanctuary in this state.

            The shrine of Sithis was shattered, pieces of it at the bottom of the water that no longer flowed, but sat stagnant. The wolf’s forge was unidentifiable, and the entryways to all of the other rooms had been blocked off. There was only the main room.

            In the middle of the floor, there were five graves, each marked with names painted in different colors. Astrid and Arnbjorn were buried next to each other, and Gabriella, Festus, and Veezara laid to rest below them.

            We all sat below the graves, utterly quiet. Babette was holding Nazir’s hand, who looked on the brink of tears. Arabella was crying silently, tears streaming down her face near constantly. I scooted towards her to hold her. She pressed her face into my neck, clinging to me rather forcefully. All of us were silent for a very long time.

            Lucien Lachance spawned a little while later, catching us all by surprise. Arabella sat up from our embrace, her face utterly confused. “Is something wrong, Lucien?”

            “No, my Listener. I was sent from the Void by Sithis.”

            We were all silent, waiting for Lucien to continue. “The Dread Lord knows how much pain you all have experienced, and has given me the task of relaying messages to and from the Void for a few minutes only.”

            “Cicero doesn’t understand.”

            Lucien rolled his spectral eyes. “You may speak to your family in the Void. Anyone you wish to speak to.” He walked towards the graves. “Your family members watch you just as Sithis and the Night Mother do. They see your every move, hear your every cry, and honor your every kill.”

            Nobody spoke, and Lucien let out a great sigh. “Astrid would like to know if you’re still angry with her, Arabella.”

            Arabella stopped breathing for a moment, staring at Lucien. “No, I’m not.” she said after a few silent seconds.

            Nazir spoke next. “Did Arnbjorn get a forge in the Void?”

            Lucien waited a moment, then chuckled quietly. “He says that’s a stupid question. There is no need for weapons or armor in the Void.” Nazir laughed the loudest I’ve ever heard.

            Babette asked, “Is Gabriella doing well?”

            Lucien rolled his eyes. “She says, ‘As well as you can be in this damnable heat.’” Lucien turned to face me. “Veezara wants you to know that he knows you feel terrible that the last you saw of him was the stabbing incident. He say all is forgiven, and you don’t need to worry about it so much.”

            I laughed and jumped up. “Yes! Veezara is so very kind.”

            Arabella looked so happy to hear about Veezara, she didn’t even realize Lucien turn to her. “Veezara says he misses you all the time, but you should not miss him. He and Festus walk with you often. They see your nightmares and hear you cry for them, but you shouldn’t. In addition, he says you make a terrible face when you eat elder cheese, and if it tastes so bad you just shouldn’t eat it.” Arabella grinned so wide I thought her cheeks might break.

            Lucien bowed then. “This is all the time the Dread Father has allowed. I’ll return to the Void, and wait for you to call upon me again, Listener.”

            “Thank you, Lucien. Please relay to Sithis and Mother how grateful we are for their gift.” Arabella said to him. We all nodded in unison.

            “Of course, my Listener. And Cicero?”

            I jumped up and down. “Yes, Lucien Lachance?”

            “The Night Mother wants you to stop punishing yourself for the events that transpired after Cheydinhal. She says you were doing your duty, and she is eternally proud of her son.” With that, Lucien disappeared into the air.

            I stood silently for a long time. I could feel the others staring at me, but I couldn’t move. Arabella stood and wrapped her arms around me, pressing her head to my chest.

            “See?” she said “Mother can speak to you. Worry no more.”

            And I wouldn’t worry anymore. Rasha and Garnag, Cicero would forever apologize for what he did to them, but Mother forgives, and that’s what Cicero needs.


	33. The New Leader

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A year following Arabella's recruitment, the new Dark Brotherhood spends some time inside and away from the storm.
> 
> POV: Arabella

            Thunder cracked outside, shaking the walls of our sanctuary. It was nearly night time, and Babette had just emerged from her bedroom and joined us in the eating area. The room was filled with the scent of vegetables and pheasant stock, and the smell was accompanied by the rumbling of hungry bellies. We had gathered together to wait out the storm that had plagued the open fields of Skyrim, preventing us from leaving the sanctuary at all.

            I looked up from my book and around the room at my family. Babette, looking so small and innocent, was working with some ingredients for a rather harmful potion in her own little corner of the room. Nazir, burly and strong, stood over the pot on the stove, wearing a smile that could fool any man or woman into thinking him to be an average Redguard. And my Cicero, seemingly obnoxious and utterly mad, sat in the chair next to me, braiding then unbraiding my hair in a rhythmic pattern while he sang silly songs in a voice that was barely audible.

            The new additions to our family sat in the room too. Mareena, an Imperial archer, sat across from the Keeper and me at the table, drawing absent mindedly as she waited for her dinner. Thomas, a burly blond Nord and master of two-handed combat, sat in the corner, writing in his journal. He looked up every few minutes to catch a glimpse of Mareena before looking away in embarrassment. Dala-grog, an older Orc, was watching Babette in fascination, excited to discuss alchemy with someone who enjoyed it as much as he did. Every few minutes, one of them would look in my general direction, hoping I could give them something to do. With the rain, we’d had no contracts in almost a week.

            I smiled, remembering how different things were a year ago. I had felt so alone in this land, and now I felt more at home than I ever had before. Even in the cold stone rooms and the dimly lit halls, I felt like I belonged.

            The Keeper laughed behind me, and I turned my head to see his face. “What’s so funny?”

            Cicero only smiled at me, then pointed to the page of the book I was reading. There was an illustration of a frostbite spider in a black and white field. I ran my fingertips over the paper, smiling as I thought of Veezara and his prank. Cicero kissed my cheek before he continued to braid my hair.

            “Alright, the stew’s ready.” Nazir’s low baritone broke the silence drifting through the room. “Come eat.”

            Everyone scattered for a chair, including Babette, even though she wouldn’t be partaking in any of the evening’s meal. She always joined us for supper, as she was content to join in the conversation and watch us eat. Thomas took a seat next to Mareena, and was quick to take several helpings worth of stew. The rest of us ate in silence for a few moments, listening to the storm and filling our eager stomachs.

            “Listener?” I looked up from my bowl to see Mareena staring at me, her eyes full of curiosity. “When will there be contracts?”

            I smiled. “Eager for coin, are we?”

            Mareena exhaled softly in mild humor. “Well, I suppose so. More eager for something to occupy myself.”

            Thomas groaned beside her. “You’re telling me. I like you guys and all, but I’m losing my mind in here.”

            The Keeper chipped in from beside me. “If the assassins wish to have something to do, Cicero could surely find something to entertain them.” The young recruits nodded quickly, setting down their soup spoons.

            Cicero stood from the table and bounced out of the room. Mareena and Thomas looked at each other excitedly, then almost at the same time, their smiles faded. They looked to me, seeking answers.

            I smirked. “Don’t look at me like that. I have no idea what he has in mind.”

            Nazir groaned from the head of the table. “This won’t be like the last time Cicero organized a group activity, will it?” I furrowed my brow as I was reminded of the last time the recruits were bored. Cicero had chased them around the sanctuary with a dagger, saying that they were practicing tactics of escape from deadly situations.

            “I hope not, Nazir, but with the Keeper, who knows?”

            Cicero reappeared then with a small box. He didn’t look at any of us as he sat on the floor in the middle of the room and rummaged through the box. We watched as he used a piece of charcoal to draw five rows of four circles. Inside each circle, he drew a different creature or object. Once he was satisfied with his alterations, he looked at the recruits.

            “Come on. Hurry up.” He nodded toward his concoction on the floor. Mareena and Thomas exchanged a look of confusion before following Cicero’s orders. They walked toward him and stood side by side in front of the charcoal markings.

            The Keeper folded his hands behind his back. “Pull up a chair, family, and admire Cicero’s masterful teaching abilities.” Nazir looked at me, but I just shrugged as we all brought our chairs over to a good viewing spot. “Now, this game is going to test your ability to follow commands without question. Cicero will give you an order, and you will follow. No whining, and no mistakes. First one to fall loses.”

            Thomas’ brow line clenched. “Fall? What do you mean—“

            “No questions!” Cicero said. “Now, who shall go first?” The recruits shrugged, so Cicero said, “Mareena, left foot on the bottle of mead.”

            Mareena took a few steps, then placed her left foot on the circle Cicero had drawn that contained a bottle of mead.

            The Keeper nodded. “Thomas, right hand on the axe.” The Nord followed his command.

            “Alright,” Cicero began. “Mareena, right hand on the spoon. Thomas, left foot on the dog.”

            The Keeper winked at me over the two recruits, hunched over to keep their designated hands and feet on the circles they were assigned. Then he spoke again. “Mareena, left hand on horse.”

            Mareena looked at the board of circles, then at Cicero in confusion. It was located on the other side of Thomas, and she would have to bend and stretch underneath him to reach it. “Keeper, I don’t think I can—”

            “No questions. Just actions. First one to fall loses.” Cicero smirked now that we all understood his game.

            We watched for a long time as Mareena and Thomas twisted around to play Cicero’s game. Once Thomas fell, Nazir and Dala-grog took a turn. It was quite a sight watching the two grown men twisting around on the floor, we were all bursting with laughter. Babette had nearly fallen out of her chair when Nazir and Dala-grog were twisted though each other’s arms and legs, wobbling unsteadily. I was nearly in tears, my ribs burning from laughing so hard.

            _“Daughter, approach me.”_

            I stopped laughing immediately, and stood to walk toward the Night Mother’s chambers below us. We had moved her coffin before the new recruits came in. She had her own crypt just beyond the rest of the sanctuary.

            The rest of the family noticed my exit, but didn’t stop the game. They were so used to my random departure when Mother spoke, they had stopped following with questions months before.

            I walked all the way down to the crypt, unlocking the door, but leaving it cracked behind me, knowing Cicero would trail behind me eventually. I stood before the Night Mother’s coffin, now worn and slightly dented from our flight through the Shrine of Sithis, with my head bowed in respect.

            _“Another child has prayed to their mother. Speak with the mourning maiden at the Winking Skeever in Solitude. Accept the contract, and eliminate the target. So begins a contract, bound in blood.”_

            “As you will it, Mother, so shall it be.” I said as I placed my hand on the door of her coffin.

            “What did Mother say?” I heard his voice from behind me. I turned to see the Keeper standing in the doorway, hat in hand.

            I smiled at him. “We have a contract.” I closed the distance between us, closing and locking Mother’s door behind me. “Up for it?”

            The Keeper smiled at me, placing his hat back on his head before taking my hand.

            “Let’s kill someone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!! 
> 
> Arabella and Cicero's story picks up in Before the Storm.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Before the Storm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8086048) by [haunter_ielle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunter_ielle/pseuds/haunter_ielle)




End file.
